#i spent nine and a half hours animating every single frame of this

[doodlesanddynomite]

Ibis Paint added an animation feature :D

Version w/out color:

[isaacthedruid]

Please allow me to tell you about one of my favourite cartoons through this informal essay I did for school a couple of months back. 

Gravity Falls and How it Did The Unimaginable

**SPOILERS... KINDA**

The 2010s saw the creation of some of the most iconic animated tv shows ever made, the likes of Adventure Time (2010), Steven Universe (2013), Over the Garden Wall (2014) and The Legend of Korra (2012). To explain why this era’s shows are so admirable is honestly rather difficult. Yet, there are many factors that can be taken into consideration when looking for an answer.

The past decade was very successful in perfecting their craft and utilizing the animated format to their favour, creating some of the wackiest and fascinating cartoons ever made. With the advancements made in both 2D and 3D animation for film, this bled into the world of TV as well.

To mention that 2010s cartoons have stunning visuals would be an understatement. Everything about the animation was beautiful; the strong colour palettes, the clean and imaginative character designs, the colourful and immersive backgrounds and especially the mesmerizing worlds that can be found within episodes that are half an hour.

This era’s cartoons also led to a massive shift in storytelling, writing longer-running stories that spread out across seasons while also swapping out episodic adventures for serialization. This heavily aided in the popularization of these shows, due to the rise of internet fandoms and dropping the taboo that cartoons were only for kids. Many shows acknowledged their older viewers by leaving clues and even puzzles to be solved by the theorists who have a large appearance on social media platforms like Reddit, Twitter and Tumblr. As the shows progressed, their fandoms created many theories for what they believed might happen within their favourite series. The top three shows from this era all utilized these changes, being at the forefront of the shift and helping guide the creative vision of 2010s cartoons.

Often regarded as many people’s favourite cartoon, Gravity Falls presented one of the best mysteries of the decade with two seasons and only 40 episodes. Inspired by Twin Peaks and The X-Files, it’s considered as the kids’ version of these two iconic shows as this cartoon acts as many people’s first introduction to horror through bright colours and fun characters.

This series follows the adventures of Dipper and Mabel Pines, twins, who are sent to spend their summer with their great-uncle or Grunkle Stan in Gravity Falls, Oregon. This town is full of oddities like supernatural creatures, insane and eccentric inhabitants, and many puzzles. The Pines twins must adjust to the weirdness while uncovering the mysteries and protecting their new town.

While living in Gravity Falls, the twins are forced to work in the Mystery Shack, a tourist trap created by their Grunkle Stan that overcharges unlucky tourists, teaching about fake monsters despite there being real creatures all over town. On his first day in Oregon, Dipper accidentally came across a mysterious journal written by an unknown author that explains all the oddities to be found in this strange town. This book acts like an encyclopedic of the Weird for Dipper, an inquisitive 12-year-old kid who seeks answers.

Dipper is an extremely intelligent kid, his brain being far more developed than his body. He’s rather awkward and self-conscious as he often stumbles over his words or gets embarrassed trying to talk to girls. Despite this, the boy is an adventurer at heart who just wants to grow up and skip his upcoming teenage years.

While Mabel is quite the opposite in many ways, she is loud and has an in-your-face personality. Mabel is bouncy and fun, she is so excited to start high school. She is easily excitable and for the larger part of the series, she is in her boy-crazy phase. Mabel is a girly-girl as she likes all things; glitter, unicorns, rainbows, partying and crafting. Yet, she doesn’t often compare well with many of the other girls in town, they see her as weird and “too much”.

(In all fairness through, it is not too kind to either of the characters as their personalities are more complex than just awkward nerd and artsy girl-girly.)

Dipper and Mabel’s personalities are very different but somehow, they—along with their Gravity Falls family—manage to solve mysteries and save the town, multiple times.

Gravity Falls is an honestly genius series that completely changed the way cartoons were made. Originally when writing a series, you’d create a base of your story; characters, the universe and a basic plot. Yet, when creator, Alex Hirsch (who was in his early/mid-20)s and his small team first began constructing their show, they planned out everything they could possibly think of for the first season. Additionally, outlining some answers for their biggest mysteries that would be answered at the end of the series.

Despite being rated TV-Y7, this series really pushed the boundaries of kids’ television. From the teeth being ripped out of a deer’s mouth by a demon, rearranging the functions of every hole on a man’s face to an aggressive pop-rock sock puppet show that ended in a dramatic slow-motion scene of the puppets burning. Gravity Falls wasn’t afraid to get a little weird or creepy. Or create some genuine nightmare fuel. 

From the beginning, Gravity Falls had built a mystery into its series, hiding secrets and clues all throughout the show. Most notably were the backwards-recorded message and cryptograms, using roughly nine different kinds, even creating two of their own.

The inclusion of cyphers and mysteries for fans to solve is possibly the reason why this series was so successful. As one of the first shows to do something like this, Gravity Falls used social media and internet fandoms to its advantage.

As mentioned earlier, cartoon fans have quite a presence on social media platforms like Twitter and Tumblr. They create theories and share fun ideas about their favourite shows. Viewers of Adventure Time, Gravity Falls and Steven Universe were all included in their share of theory fun.

Sometimes, fan theories end up being correct but when you’re Gravity Falls creator, Alex Hirsch, you don’t just watch from the sidelines as your viewers figure out the biggest mystery of your show. No, you create a hoax to get your viewers off your trail and that is what he did. Around 2013, only halfway through the first season of the show, viewers had started to follow the clues, theorizing who was the author is Dipper’s mysterious journal.

Unfortunately for the Gravity Falls production crew, the viewers were right— for the sake of readers who have never seen the show, I will not mention who the author was as it would be the biggest spoiler.

In 2013, a supposed leaked image of a tv showing a younger version of the show’s crazy old man character, Old Man McGucket, writing in the infamous journal was uploaded anonymously (by Alex Hirsch) to 4Chan.

Despite the image only being on up for a few hours, it spread like wildfire. Much to the team’s success, theorists stopped searching for the answer to “who is the author” and just accepted the image of McGucket as the truth.

To further push the fake-out, three words were posted to Alex’s Twitter, “fuming right now.”

The tweet was deleted a few minutes later and fans genuinely believed that someone from the Gravity Falls team had leaked the most important part of the story.

While doing research, I came across a Reddit post from April 10th, 2013, the day after ‘leak,’ Alex’s tweet was uploaded. In this post, user, TheoDW uploaded an image of Alex’s tweet with the caption, “It seems that Hirsch got mad at last night’s leak. He already deleted this tweet.”

Seeing the reactions of these Redditors in 2013 is kind of weird and crazy to look at. “He has every right to be upset. Someone internally released a plot revealing screen shot of series breaking spoiler information,” a deleted Reddit account commented.

“This is Alex Hirsch’s biggest success by far, he spent a huge amount of time carefully planning out the series, and then in a moment someone releases a major spoiler. It would make anyone upset,” the user, Time_Loop commented.

“Seriously, this is a nightmare for a storyteller, and shows a breach of trust. I feel so bad for him–honestly, I hope whoever did the leak gets caught and appropriate action is taken. You don’t f–k with someone’s story like this. It’s unprofessional.” the user, lonelybeloved angrily commented.

In 2014, this ‘leak’ was finally disproven when viewers were given an episode on McGucket’s backstory and an amazing tweet from Alex Hirsch. 

Alex had post an image of himself playfully pointing at a monitor with the supposed leaked picture with the caption, “1) Make hoax  2) Upload to 4Chan  3) Post angry tweet about "leak" 4) Delete tweet 5) Let internet do rest”

It is so interesting to look at these comments know that all of this was orchestrated by Alex.

I wish I had been old enough at the time to follow theories and fandom stuff like I do now with current cartoons but really looking at this from an outside perspective, this was insane!

The real author wasn’t revealed until 2015 and when viewers first got the answer to this biggest show on their screens, they must have freaked out!

Following the finale in 2016, a single frame of a stone version of Bill Cipher, the show’s villain, flashed in after the credits had finished.

Alex Hirsch and his team actually created a real-life statue of their villain for their viewers to find and on July 20th, 2016, the Cipher Hunt began.

By following clues, the Hunters found themselves all over the world; Russia, Japan and then travelling throughout the United States for the final 12 clues. When the hunt took them to Los Angeles, actor, Jason Ritter (voice of Dipper Pines, also a massive fan of the series) and Alex Hirsch’s twin sister, Ariel Hirsch (the inspiration for Mabel) joined in the fun helping the search.

Finally, the hunt ended on August 2nd when someone tweeted out an image of the found statue in Oregon, the same state in which the fictional town of Gravity Falls exists. The Cipher Hunt had ended but finding the statue wasn’t Alex’s goal for the scavenger hunt, it was about the journey and bringing together the viewers, more than having them actually find the statue.

Creating its own hoax, an international scavenger hunt and quite a bit of nightmare fuel, Gravity Falls was a show truly unlike any other.

The 2010s saw some of the strongest cartoons ever made, Adventure Time, Gravity Falls and Steven Universe acting as the leaders for multiple different changes in the medium; storytelling, worldbuilding, interaction with viewers, utilizing social media, representation and further pushing music into the cartoon world. From what was created this past decade and what has already been released in 2020, I’m so excited to see what comes next.

I have another one of these which is on Steven Universe’s representation and music if you would like to see that too!! 

[shellbilee]

Classic - A Henry Cavill FanFiction

Here it is guys, Chapter 4. Sorry for the very very long delay, between travelling and studying for my masters degree everything has just been a little insane and unfortunately my fanfic writing drops off the priority list. Now that things have settled down again I’m hoping to get a lot more chapters up for you! 

I hope you enjoy this chapter, I have a lot of plans for Henry & Belle! As always, comments and feedback welcome. Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in the next chapters!

B x

@michelehansel @tumblnewby @crazy4thewinbros @thislittlediary@hamianderson 

Chapter 4

Henry's POV:

I scanned the park for people as Kal and I stepped onto the paved walking path, Kal panting and wagging his tail happily as he looked out at the grassy area. Finding no one in sight, I bent down to un-clip his lead and watched as he took off onto the grass, grinning when he reached the middle and turned around to bark at me. I flipped the newly-purchased travel mug over in my hands as I walked over to a nearby park bench, sitting down and looking up at Kal as he sniffed a tree curiously. I glanced down at the mug and frowned, all of a sudden feeling stupid for buying it yesterday. It had seemed like a great idea at the time, but right now it just seemed silly. What would Belle think? I had no idea if I'd even be able to give it to her since I had no idea if she'd even show this morning. And this is exactly why you should have just asked her for her number when you saw her yesterday. I shook my head and exhaled loudly, once again frustrated at my actions. On one hand I didn't want to seem too forward with a woman I'd known for less than an hour, but on the other hand there was an absolutely gorgeous girl that I had no way of knowing if I was ever going to see again. I glanced down at the mug and back up at Kal, thankful that I'd at least managed to find her on Instagram last night. 

I'd been settling down into bed last night when I'd gone onto Instagram to reply to some of my fans comments on my new post. Then, by some kind of chance I'd seen it - a comment from a 'belledeluca' saying that she and Kyah had loved meeting Kal and I. Figuring that it could be the same Belle from the park, I'd clicked on her name to find a private profile with a small, simple bio. '29. Vet. London', the famous A.A Milne quote 'You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem and smarter than you think' written beneath it. Though I couldn't quite make out the small profile picture, I could see the same gorgeous smile that had made me stop in my tracks in the park yesterday. It was her! I'd pressed the follow button without thinking and had been surprised when she'd accepted only a few minutes later, allowing me a full, unobstructed view of her photos.

I'd proceeded to spend the next ten minutes shamelessly searching through Belle's profile, each new picture only further confirming just how gorgeous I thought she was. There were photos of her at work smiling happily next to various animals, photos of her out on the town and laughing with her girlfriends, photos of her dressed to the nines in a deep red gown at some fancy event and of course several photos of her grinning happily with Kyah. I'd noted quite happily that absent from her profile was any pictures or mentions of a boyfriend, it seemed like it was just her and Kyah. What wasn't absent though - from almost every single photo, was that same unbelievably beautiful smile. It was one of those smiles that seemed to light up her entire face, one that would make you stop and stare if you saw it. Belle was absolutely stunning, and the more I looked at her photos, the more I realised just how much I wanted to see her again. 

My head snapped up when I heard Kal bark, looking up just in time to see Kyah bounding towards him on the grass. Kyah's tail wagged furiously as she ran straight into Kal, the two instantly jumping into play-mode despite meeting for the first time only yesterday. I felt the smile grow on my face before my thoughts could even register. She was here! I heard the sound of footsteps behind me and I turned my head towards the noise, my smile growing even bigger when my eyes fell on the sight I'd be thinking about all night. Belle. She looked even more gorgeous than I remembered yesterday, dressed in figure hugging black leggings with her long brown hair pulled back into a high, bouncy ponytail. Even her eyes seemed to be brighter than I remembered, wide and a soft jade green, framed by long dark lashes. I grinned and leaned back on the bench, looking up at her as she pulled her headphones out of her ears. "Good morning Belle"."Good morning Henry" she replied with a soft smile, wrapping her headphones around her phone and reaching up to smooth her pony tail. I shifted on the bench to make room for her next to me, Belle flashing me a grateful smile and sitting down beside me. 

"I see these two clearly missed each other" Belle said as she looked out at Kal and Kyah, letting out a soft laugh and turning to me with a grin. I chuckled, "Yes Kal was pestering me all night last night, kept saying how much he wanted to see his new friend again". She laughed louder this time, the sound light and bubbly and like music in my ears, her gorgeous green eyes crinkling at the sides as she looked back at me, amused. "How has your morning been?" Belle inquired, glancing out at the dogs and looking back at me thoughtfully, "Did you get up to much yesterday?". I exhaled and leaned back on the bench, "Well, it's starting off pretty well I must say" I replied gesturing to her and watching as a faint blush crept up her face, "In fact I'm quite sure that this will be the highlight of my day today".

I smiled as her cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink, watching as her lips parted into a gorgeous smile that made me momentarily lose my train of thought. "Charming as ever you are Mr Cavill" she retorted, laughing and shaking her head softly. I chuckled at her use of my last name and looked out at the dogs again, the strong scent of sweet fruity vanilla suddenly invading my senses as Belle shifted beside me. I closed my eyes for a brief moment taking in her intoxicating perfume, opening my eyes and looking back at her a moment later. "In answer to your question though, I didn't do a whole lot yesterday. Had some meetings to attend, a few gym sessions. Just the usual really". Belle laughed, "Just the usual? Oh how the other half lives". I laughed and shook my head, shifting on the bench, "What about yourself? How was work for you?".

Belle let out a soft sigh, "Work wasn't too bad yesterday. It was one of those flat out back-to-back appointment days which are never really great I guess, but it does mean that the day goes quickly" she explained with a shrug, "And then I went to my brother's place for a bit after yoga last night". I leaned back on the bench and tilted my head questioningly, "Yoga? How often do you do that?". Belle smiled, "Every Wednesday night.  My sister in law Mel went through a 'wanting to try new things phase' a few months ago and of course I got dragged along". Almost instantly the image of Belle wearing very little and sitting in some bent over yoga position appeared in my brain and I had to look out at the dogs momentarily in an effort to compose myself. "I was a little apprehensive at first" Belle admitted reaching up to brush a piece of hair away from her face, "Especially when we spent the first session lying on our backs and "focusing on our breathing" she added, making quotation marks with her fingers when she said 'focusing on our breathing'. "But then I realised how great I felt after a session so I decided to keep at it. We've been going for a few months now".

I nodded, "Can't say I've ever thought about trying it". Belle tilted her head and shrugged, "I'm sure it's not for everyone. But if you can get past all of the flakey mindfulness stuff and focus on the movements, I think you'd be pleasantly surprised". I smiled, "I can barely touch my toes so I don't know how great I'd be" I laughed, shrugging my shoulders and grinning when Belle laughed out loud. I couldn't help my smile as I watched her intently, thinking for the tenth time this morning just how beautiful I thought she was. Belle grinned, "I'm sure you'd be more than fine Henry".

"So, what about this morning? Was getting out of bed as difficult as you said it was yesterday?". A grin grew on Belle's face as if she'd just thought of something funny, my eyebrows raising curiously when she shook her head a moment later as if dismissing a thought. "Well no, not exactly. I found it to be much easier to get out of bed when you have incentive" Belle replied, gesturing to me and flashing her gorgeous grin. I chuckled and watched as she opened her mouth to continue, her eyes all of a sudden widening as she looked down at my lap. Seeing her expression, I frowned and followed her eye line, shaking my head at myself when I saw the mug in my hands. I'd been so caught up in seeing Belle again that I'd forgotten to give it to her. "Wha---, that's not what I think it is, is it?" Belle stammered, looking at me with wide, confused eyes. I grinned, "Well, I'm hoping that you think it's a travel mug?". Belle rolled her eyes and laughed, "Yes thank you, I can see that" she answered, a hint of attitude sneaking into her voice, "What I meant was, that's not a replacement mug because of yesterday is it?".

My lips parted and I couldn't help my grin from forming as I looked back at her incredulous expression, "Well I'm terribly sorry to tell you, that actually, yes it is. I felt awful that you broke your mug because of Kal's lack of manners" I said gesturing out to the dogs, "So it was only right that I buy another since you refused to take my money yesterday". Belle shook her head defiantly, a small smile evident on her lips, "It's not like he did on purpose! I didn't even give it a second thought when I got home. You didn't need to do that, really, it's okay". I shrugged, "Well, I wanted to. So please take it" I replied, reaching over to place the mug in her lap and flashing her a grin. I watched as she shook her head again, letting out a soft laugh as she looked down at the mug and then back up at me. "Thank you Henry, it's very sweet of you" she responded glancing out at the dogs, "But see, now we have a problem. Now I feel that I owe you something. After all, you did go to the trouble of going out to buy this" she explained, holding up the mug for emphasis.

I opened my mouth to tell her that now she was the one being silly, an idea all of a sudden popping into my head. I'd been thinking about this girl all night last night, wishing I had asked for her number when I'd met her yesterday. Now I had the perfect opportunity - and I didn't know how to say it. I smiled and shifted on the bench as I looked over at Belle, watching as she raised a curious eyebrow when she saw my expression. "And what is that smile for Mr Cavill?" she asked, tilting her head and looking at me intently. I reached up and ran my fingers through my hair. "Well, technically you don't owe me anything, in fact I think this actually makes us even" I explained, gesturing to the mug in her hands, "However there is something that I'd like to ask you for". Belle laughed and shifted on the bench so that her whole body was now facing me, "Oh really? And what might that be?". As I searched for the words to ask, it suddenly dawned on me that I couldn't remember the last time I'd actually asked a girl for her number. I smiled as I looked back at Belle's gorgeous green eyes, letting out a deep, silent breath. It was now or never. "I'm aware that this may be awfully forward of me considering this is only the second time we've met" I began, swallowing thickly and letting out another breath, "But if it is okay with you, I'd like to please ask for your number".

---

Belle's POV:

The final buzzer sounded signalling the end of the game and I threw my hands up into the air in triumph! We did it! I shook hands with my player from the opposing team and thanked her for the game, winking at Jayde as I walked past her to shake hands with the rest of the team. She'd been absolutely on fire tonight scoring 23 of our 30 goals - even when she'd been standing in the most awkward of spots she'd still somehow managed to effortlessly get the ball through the ring. I'd been playing netball with her for almost 6 years now and I was still in awe every time I watched her. "Great game girls!" Ivy, our captain shouted as we came together, the whole team clapping when the umpire interrupted to announce that Jayde had won 'Best on Ground'. "Well deserved babe" I said as I wrapped my arm around her shoulders, giving her a squeeze, "You killed it tonight Jay". Ash grinned as she walked over to Jayde and I, patting her on the back and congratulating her on her performance. 

"You ready for dinner guys?" Ash asked as we collected our gear, searching in her bag for her car keys. "Sure am!" Jayde answered as she pulled on her jumper, "I've been thinking about these dumplings all day. And I'm bloody starving!". Ash and I laughed as we walked towards our cars, a wide happy grin glued permanently to my face. I'd been on cloud nine the entire day, my mind still struggling to process what had happened this morning. Henry Cavill had asked for my number! The words had been running through my mind all day like a song on repeat. Henry fucking Cavill! I still hadn't told the girls yet - I'd wanted to wait until we sat down at dinner to tell them so that I could see their reactions first hand. It had taken every ounce of my energy not to text them both while I'd been at work today, my mind forcing me to delete the text that I'd written at least four times throughout the day. 

"Follow me yeah?" Jayde yelled out as I opened my car door, fumbling through my bag in an effort to find my phone. "Yeah will do!" I shouted back as I slid into the drivers seat of my white SUV, my fingers finally locating my phone in my bag. The already enormous smile on my face got even bigger when I saw that I had a message from an unknown number, my heart racing in my chest when my eyes read the message. Henry! He'd sent me a text asking how my day had been, and how I'd gone at netball tonight, signing off with a simple 'H x'. I fought the urge to hug myself in glee, reading over the message again and wondering what on earth I should reply. It wasn't every day that I got a text message from a celebrity - and unbelievably handsome one at that. Handsome was not even a good enough word to describe Henry, no word was. I'd had to stop myself from swooning at least ten times while I'd sat with him this morning, the devastatingly sexy half smiles he'd kept flashing me threatening to turn me into a puddle on the floor. I jumped when a car horn suddenly honked, shaking me from my thoughts as I looked up to find both Ash and Jayde's cars sitting stationary at the exit of the car park. Realizing that they were both waiting for me - and aware that Jayde would start to get violent if she didn't get her dumplings soon, I typed a quick message back to Henry and dropped my phone back into my bag, pulling the gear stick into drive and following the girls out of the car park. 

---

"I cannot believe you have Superman's number!" Jayde said for the hundredth time, finally giving up on trying to pick up a vegetarian dumpling with her chopsticks and switching to a fork. I'd told them all about my encounter on Wednesday morning - how I'd been ready to rip into the owner of the giant Akita that had knocked into Kyah and I, and how I'd seemingly lost all of my words when I realized who the owner was. I'd told them how how he'd followed me on Instagram last night, how he'd bought me another mug and had asked for my number, and how the two of us had continued to talk for over an hour this morning. Like me, they'd been incredulous when I showed them his text message, struggling to believe that I'd actually managed to meet and get the number of Henry Cavill himself. "So what now B?" Ash asked as she took a sip of her red wine, "Will you go on a date with him?". I covered my mouth as I chewed a prawn dumpling, swallowing and shrugging my shoulders. "Well that might be a bit presumptuous Ash" I replied, taking a sip of my own wine, "But I don't know, I can't say I've thought about the logistics - I mean, I only met the man yesterday. I've been in too much shock to think about that" I added with a laugh, putting down my wine glass and brushing a stray hair from my face.

"He asked for your number Belle, that's quite clearly something babe" Jayde interjected, stabbing another dumpling on her plate, "I mean, you don't ask someone for their number if you aren't interested in them". I shrugged my shoulders again and clicked my chopsticks together, considering her words. She did have a point there. Was Henry really interested in me? I shook my head and frowned - why would Henry Cavill - the Henry Cavill, be interested in me? I wasn't a model, I wasn't an actress, I was just a vet from the suburbs who happened to be at the park when he was. It didn't make sense. Didn't celebrities tend to stick to their own kind? Seeing my expression, Jayde shook her head and pointed her fork at me. "No, I know what you're thinking and you can erase that thought right now". I shook my head innocently, "What do you mean?". Jayde raised an eyebrow, "You're not doubting yourself, wondering why he is interested in you?" "Saying that you're 'just a vet'?" Ash added, she too looking at me with a raised eyebrow. I rolled my eyes and turned my attention back to my food, suddenly annoyed that my two best friends could read me so well. "It's not that I'm doubting myself, it's just that, why? Like the man could have literally any woman in the world". "And yet he asked for your number you gorgeous bitch" Jayde interrupted, flashing me a wicked grin as she took a sip of her wine, "So stop thinking negatively and realize the positives here".  "And they are?" I challenged, tilting my head as I looked back at Jayde. "That sex-on-legs fucking Superman is into you of course!".

Several courses of dumplings and many glasses of red wine later, the three of us sat at the table, pleasantly content. When we'd finally gotten away from the topic of Henry, Jayde had told us all about a new drama at work - she was a lawyer at a mid size firm in the heart of the city. The firm had hired a new senior associate who apparently looked like a darker version of Jake Gyllenhaal but sounded like Gerard Butler, and - according to Jayde, had consequently sent all of the young female paralegals and junior associates into a tiz. Ash and I had both laughed when she'd told us - it had sounded like something right out of a Suits episode. I grinned, Oh Harvey Spectre. Jamie was later brought up and Ash's eyes had welled up almost instantly at the mention of her brother. She'd admitted that she was struggling without him - especially with not being able to contact him, but was happy that he was finally doing something he'd always wanted to do. She'd explained that he was only able to make phone calls once a week while he was in the initial training, and that she was eagerly awaiting his call next week. 

---

"So what are you doing this weekend B?" Ash asked as we stood up from the table, grabbing our things as Jayde walked over to the front of the restaurant to pay the bill. "Oh I've got Amy and Marc coming to visit. You remember my friends from Australia don't you? They were here last year for a week or so, came to visit me on their way to visit Marc's family in Glasgow?". Ash nodded, "Yeah I remember, the Scottish guy with the beard and amazing green eyes". I laughed, "Yes that's the one. They're visiting Marc's family again and are doing a big Europe trip this time. I'm picking them up from the airport tomorrow and they're staying with me for a few days" I explained as I pulled on my jacket, "What about you?". "Liam's taking me away for the weekend" Ash replied just as Jayde returned to the table. "Oooo where are you going?" Jayde teased, slipping on her jacket, "Big romantic weekend for you two?". Ash rolled her eyes, "Were going to Galway to visit his parents and then just going to do some sight seeing or something. Planning for the wedding has been ridiculously stressful lately, and he knows this week has been hard with Jamie and everything. So he wanted us to have a little getaway" she explained as the three of us made our way out of the restaurant. I nodded, "Speaking of, how is planning going? Have you got much left to do?".  

After being together for over seven years, Liam had finally popped the question on Ash's birthday last year. He'd come to Jayde and I a few weeks before, wanting our opinions on engagement rings. We'd given him our best advice and several weeks later he'd asked her to marry him during a carefully planned, romantic weekend in Paris. She'd called almost as soon as he had asked, her voice practically incoherent among the happy sobs and cries. When they'd finally set a date a few months later, Ash had asked Jayde and I to be her bridesmaids, along with her younger sister Taylah as her maid of honour. Together, the three of us had helped out with the wedding planing, assisting Ash with everything from guest lists and cake flavours, to searching numerous stores for the perfect dress.

Ash shook her head, "Every time I feel like I'm on top of it, I find something else that needs to be done. You know how everyone always says wedding planning is hard because there's so much to do?". Jayde and I both nodded, "Well believe it. Because it is 100% the truth" Ash continued with a loud sigh. "Anyway enough of that" she said, turning to Jayde and changing the subject, "What about you, what are you doing this weekend?".  Jayde rolled her head around and stretched her neck, an enormous grin suddenly growing on her face "I'm doing absolutely fucking nothing" she announced loudly, dropping her arms to her sides, "And I can't bloody wait. I can't remember the last time I had a weekend at home, relaxing with me, myself and I. I've worked like, the past five weekends in a row". I laughed and tapped my chin, "Andddd whose idea was it to be a lawyer again Jayde?". This time it was Jayde's turn to roll her eyes, "Oh shut up B". 

I chuckled and pulled my keys out of my bag as we reached our cars. "Well, on that note ladies, I am off. I'm exhausted from our game" Ash exclaimed with a sigh, reaching up to stretch her arms above her head, "Thank you both for a lovely dinner. It was just what I needed after this week". I smiled as Ash got into her car, "Any time babe, you know we love you. Drive safe and have a good weekend yeah?". "And make sure you actually relax this weekend!" Jayde shouted as she unlocked her black Mercedes Benz, "Have a bottle of wine...or 3!". Ash laughed and shook her head dismissively, waving to us as she drove off out of the car park. "And you B!" Jayde exclaimed loudly as she opened her car door and lifted one leg into the car, "Keep me updated on the Superman situation okay? I want every single dirty detail!". I rolled my eyes and laughed, only Jayde would say that. I waved to her as she got into her car, smiling when she blew me a kiss and drove off towards the exit of the car park.

---

I fluffed up my pillow behind me and leaned back in bed, picking up my phone to respond to Henry's latest message. We'd been texting back and forth since I'd gotten home from dinner, talking about our days and sharing our weekend plans. I'd explained about Amy and Marc coming to visit and how I was more than likely going to have a night out with them tomorrow, and he'd explained how he had a busy weekend of meeting and press planning for his latest TV show called The Witcher. He'd apologized in his latest message saying that he and Kal wouldn't be out walking tomorrow because he had an early start, the feeling of disappointment suddenly settling in my stomach knowing that I wouldn't get to see Henry again for a few days. I looked down at Kyah as she lay curled in a ball in her bed beside mine, deciding that I'd still get up and take her for a morning walk even though we wouldn't get to see our new friends. I reached down to stroke her fluffy head with my free hand as my fingers hovered over the screen, thinking about what to say to Henry in response. The beep of a new message sounded and I turned back to my phone, a second message from Henry suddenly popping up on the screen. Almost instantly, the feeling of disappointment in my stomach was replaced by one of excitement. 

I was wondering if you were free at all next week? I'd love to take you to dinner or perhaps grab a drink?

I let out a small excited squeal, grinning when Kyah lifted her head to look up at me curiously. Henry Cavill was asking me on a date! I fought the urge to hug myself, all of a sudden feeling like the luckiest girl in the world. Jayde was right, I had to look at the positives here - a million and one females would kill to be in my position, and yet here I was getting asked out for dinner by Henry Cavill himself. Superman wanted to take me out on a date! I grinned and inhaled deeply, forcing myself to remember that he was still in essence a normal human male and that this should be like any other guy that had ever asked me out on a date. Letting out a heavy breath I forced myself remain composed, my fingers flying across the screen as I typed a simple message in response; 

That sounds lovely. Do you have a particular night that would suit you? Tuesday would work well for me, otherwise Friday? 

---

We sent a few more messages back and forth - me joking that perhaps he should be the one to pick the day since he was probably significantly busier than I was, and him eventually making the executive decision for dinner on Tuesday night. Several more texts and a mutual decision to figure out logistics closer to the date, we both decided it was finally time to call it a night. I smiled to myself as I typed my final message to Henry, thanking him again for the mug and letting him know that I was also very much looking forward to Tuesday. Putting down my phone and flicking off my bedside lamp, I lay back on my pillow and shook my head in disbelief. I had a date with Henry Cavill! Unable to wipe the smile from my face, I closed my eyes and before long felt myself begin to drift off to sleep, the image of Henry's gorgeous blue eyes burnt into my brain.

---

Chapter 5

[random-snippets]

For the headcanon prompt thingy I’m a sucker for LAMP (romantic or platonic doesn’t matter) so how about each of the sides sharing something they’re passionate about w/ each other? Like Roman tries to get the others to go adventuring with him, Virgil takes them to a MCR concert, etc.

God I love this? 

Logan

- Logan takes them out to look at stars. They all pack overnight bags and warm clothes and head into Logan’s room, then head outside. While the others have created their rooms and the outside world beyond purely for aesthetic, Logan has meticulously recreated the night sky, basing it on hundreds of books and pictures and star charts he’s accessed over the years. They head out to a small hill overlooking Logan’s domain, and spread blankets and picnic baskets and listen as Logan tells them about the constellations and the ancient navigational practices used by sea voyagers, and the way science has been able to use visible light from the stars to determine the exact chemical composition. He tells them about dwarfs and giants and black holes. He talks until his voice is hoarse, but not once do they interrupt him, far to captivated by the passion in his voice and the way the starlight glints off the frames of his glasses. 

When he finally does tire, they all curl up together on the blanket, eat the snacks they brought along, sip cocoa conjured steaming hot in huge mugs courtesy of Roman, and snuggle together to watch the northern lights until sunrise. 

Patton: 

- Patton’s request is fairly simple: he wants them all together. He’s passionate about his family, and they are his family. But since the others insist he picks the activities, they go to a bright and sunny dog park and play with the puppies for hours, laughing and throwing frisbees and tennis balls and petting every single thing on four legs that wanders by. They break for a picnic lunch of sandwiches and doritos and cookies, then go to the zoo and look at all the animals. Patton squeals at every single one and Logan teaches them what he knows about the ones that are there. 

At the end of the day, at twilight, they chase fireflies, catching them and letting them go again, then head inside to bake cookies and play board games. After dinner (and cookies), they watch movies until they all fall asleep, cuddled in together, Logan and Virgil leaning on either side of Patton and Roman resting with his head in his lap. Patton stays awake much longer than the others, watching the credits roll and cherishing his family in his arms. 

Roman: 

- Roman brings them to his realm to show them the worlds he’s created. When they enter, they are each greeted by four enormous (and gorgeous) horses--a black Friesian for Virgil; a palomino dapple gypsy vanner for Patton; a sensible chestnut quarter horse for Logan; and of course, for Roman, a gorgeous white shire stallion. This means that the first hour and a half in Roman’s realm is spent teaching the other three how to ride, but they catch on quickly enough with Roman’s help (and the help of the somewhat smarter-than-typical horses). When they’re proficient, Roman gives them a riding tour of his kingdom, showing off his castle, the sweeping vistas from the mountains, the sparkling lakes and, in the distance, the sweeping arm of the sea. They partake in a feast in the castle, then a ball, where Roman gets them all dressed to the nines in outfits tailored specifically for them and teaches them a number of waltzes and royal dances. 

Afterward, they’re all tuckered out (and Virgil’s more than a little anxious after such an active and social day), so Roman takes them to the top of the tallest tower, where he has outfitted the large room with a crackling fireplace, velvety cushions and sofas, a chaise lounge, and--because magic--a huge TV. They settle in and watch Disney movies, roasting marshmallows and hot dogs in the fireplace when they get hungry, and finish out the day cuddled together on a huge pile of cushions in front of the fire. 

Virgil: 

- Everyone expects Virgil’s day to be spent at a variety of concerts. Instead, Virgil asks them to all join him in the living room of the commons, where he sits them all down with headphones and plays them a variety of songs he likes to use when he’s feeling anxious. He’s nervous at first, but after awhile, he opens up and starts talking about what each song means to him, and how it helps him calm down. He starts getting passionate after awhile and Logan even chimes in with some musical theory backing up the fact that a steady rhythm emulating a calm heartbeat is a fantastic way to treat panic. Virgil is incredibly excited about this and runs to his room to download more songs to show them. With every hour that passes where they don’t get bored or ask him to stop, he gets more open and enthusiastic, and soon they’re wondering how this excitedly rambling boy who keeps blowing his bangs absently away from his face could be their anxious emo boy. They’re wondering how they never realized how much passion he was hiding from them, for fear of being mocked or belittled. Each of them silently and independently vows to try to draw him out more often. 

After the day of shared music and shared pizza, they ask Virgil if he might tell them stories about times he used anxiety to protect them, or protect Thomas. While Virgil is uncomfortable and shy about it at first, he does indulge them, and they absorb it all thoroughly, wanting to make sure they never, ever take him for granted again. Afterward they thank him, and then they watch Tim Burton movies until it gets dark. Virgil then wants to tell ghost stories, but when he sees Patton looking nervous, he makes sure none of them are too scary. They end the night with cookies and cuddles. 

[outroshooky]

far too young to die | kth

⇢ genre: series (idol!au) (friendstolovers!au) (kind of a slow burn) (fluff, angst)

⇢ pairing: kim taehyung x reader

⇢ word count: 4.8k

⇢ warnings: angst, brief mentions of death.

this work is based on the song far too young to die by panic! at the disco. listen here.

You hoped that when he had walked out of your door and down the stone steps for the last time, he was going to forget about you. For god's sakes, he was about to make his debut in a highly competitive industry that was hungry for talent- the talent he possessed, in fact. He wasn't just the little scrawny kid up the lane anymore- He was a dancer now, a singer with growing popularity, a model, a professional, and above all, a celebrity. You weren't the most important thing in his world anymore, and he had all the more reason to turn a blind eye to his past. In fact, you would've if you were him. Let dusty roads be dusty roads, and let bygones be bygones.

He had always loved living out in the country much more than you did. Everything he had ever wanted out of life he found in the gentle rise and fall of green slopes, in the tree lines that framed the horizon, in the soft animal calls that soared their way across the landscape and echoed into nothingness. He found comfort in all of these things while you found them chafing.

Your mother teased that you were born with a suitcase in your left hand and a passport in your right. The earliest book you could remember reading front-to-back was a crumbling, brown-leather bound volume inlaid with gold trim. It was a gift from your late grandfather, left specifically to you in his will. On the inside of the yellowed cover, a spindly dedication in his handwriting explained it all- the book was his grandfather's, and then his, and now yours. It was a journal of the creatures of the world, as written by your great-great grandfather on his explorations around the Gold Coast. Five-year-old you couldn't be bothered with the descriptions, instead choosing to get lost in the ornate drawings that filled every margin and swam in between the scribbles you so often found where a pen had run dry.

You were fascinated by the sketches, tracing your fingertips over every delicate wing and silky dolphin inked onto the page. The simplism confounded you- such majestic creatures had been carefully imprinted into history with only a few simple strokes. At seven years old, the first thing you did after completely deciphering every word of the book was slam the novel shut (gently, the thing was damn near two hundred years old), race to the kitchen, grab your mother's arm, and beg her to take you to the library. You combed through the shelves, taking out as many geography books as could possibly fit on your card. Maybe it was a bit selfish at the time, but you simply had to know more. And nobody else was going to take that from you.

You spent countless nights in the attic engrossed in dusty pages, trying not to choke on the overwhelming smell of mold. Your books were the only friends you needed, one small farm boy aside. As your eyes greedily drank in the information, your mind would wander to dreams of the unknown. Perhaps every life is spent in its own microcosm, you wondered. Perhaps nobody can truly see all that the universe can encompass. But then that brings the question: who has the ability to see the most of what the cosmos has to offer?

It was a knock on your door on a bright summer day that caused you to jump, splashing dishwater onto the counters and staining the white lacy curtains hanging over the sink. Nobody ever knocked around here anymore, they usually just hollered at the open window. You sighed, throwing the wet towel over your shoulder and striding to the living room.

"You know, I live in the middle of nowhere, you really don't have to kn-" Your jaw fell open in shock as you threw the screen door open, voice dying in your throat as the last person on the planet you expected to see stood at the base of your porch, hands clasped behind his back and head bowed.

He smiled sheepishly and gazed up at you from two steps below, cheeks reddening under a black snapback. "Hi."

You’d ushered him inside and had him sit at the kitchen table in between the potted spices you’d bought in town the day before. You put a kettle on to boil, trying to ignore the tremors in your hands. It had been nine hundred and thirty four days since he had last sat at the same kitchen table- two very long, very lonely years with precisely three handwritten letters and a seven-word Christmas card to tide you over. The letters were two weeks old by the time they’d been deposited in your mailbox, and you’d responded to all of them- of course, his return letter would take another month and two weeks to arrive, and by then, what’s the point of trying to stay in contact anyway?

His chair scraped against the floor, and you gripped the edge of the sink with white knuckles. He leaned against the counter next to you, back to the wall, eyes on the tan linoleum. You heard him inhale and exhale, air rushing past his lips. “I missed you.”

You dared yourself to glance at him. It seemed as if- no, it was a different man standing before you than the boy that had last stood in this room.

He was slimmer; his muscles were more defined, his stomach flat. He’d discarded his sweatshirt and snapback on the kitchen chair; thus only a soft t-shirt hung off his shoulders, revealing a defined collarbone. His jaw was sharper than it had ever been, cheekbones high and skin golden. His hair was long and lighter, more caramel than the chocolate color you remembered. It brushed over his forehead, falling into his eyes. His doe eyes were the one thing remaining the same through all of your time apart- they were just as innocent and expressive as they were on the last day, only this time, they were tinged with something you couldn’t quite identify.

His gaze met yours; your heart jumped into your throat. Your first instinct was to brush the hair back out of his face and you blocked it, only permitting yourself to focus past him to the sunset painting on the far wall. “I missed you too, Taehyung.”

His demeanor cracked, his cheeks dimpled, and he beamed. You exhaled, breathing a sigh you didn’t know you were holding in. His boxy smile was the same as it was two years, six months, three weeks, and four hours ago. The clock on the wall chimed, and the cuckoo bird chirped its tinny sound.

“No ‘Tae’? Or ‘T’? Just Taehyung? I don’t even get an ‘idiot’ out of you. God, it really has been a long time, hasn’t it?”

The kid from the country house up the dirt road stood before you again, all dark hair and plaid downy jacket. Then you blinked, and he was gone.

He was the one to suggest you take a walk through the fields as the afternoon wound down. The landscape was beginning to darken in preparation for night: pink streaked the sky, cicadas began their gentle hum, and bells clanked over the tops of the hills. Was it always this beautiful? You couldn’t seem to remember.

He kept pace beside you, long legs taking a step and a half for your one. Your beat-up boots were a drastic contrast to his brand-new Nikes- you’d offered him a pair of muddy waders, but he’d insisted that it was alright. To each their own, you had responded, but you couldn’t fathom not having to worry about keeping a pair of two-hundred-dollar shoes clean.

“How’s your father doing?” He broke the silence.

“He’s dead.” Your voice was colder than you meant it to be. “He died last October.”

“Oh.” He bit his lip, shoulders deflating. “God, I’m so sorry.”

You shrugged. “It’s fine. It is what it is.”

He shook his head. The light painted him almost angelic, glowing in the twilight. “It’s not fine. Have you been alone this whole time?”

“Well, I’m not technically alone. Your mother comes by sometimes to check in on me, and of course I still have Honja.”

He smiled again, teeth flashing. “No matter how affectionate an elderly cat may be, that’s no excuse for human company.”

You shrugged, watching the puffs of dust roll across the path ahead. “Like I said, it’s fine. I have the farm to keep busy with anyways.”

He went to speak, but cut himself off. “Ah, yes… The farm. Were you finally able to clear that back field?”

“Nope. Abeonim was supposed to, but then he got sicker, and- we got distracted. Everything is still running how it should be.”

“That’s good, I guess.”

You fell into silence once more as you walked together, cutting single-file through the back of his parents’ property to rejoin yours. Suddenly, he stopped, turning to face you. Sunset’s glow caught all the right angles, and your eyes met his for the first time since he’d showed up at your door.

“You’ve really been alone this whole time, noona?”

It took you a moment to find your voice. “I’m fine, Tae.”

“But you’ve been on your own. I know y-”

“Tae.” You interjected firmly. “I’m fine.”

“But-” He cut himself off. “Never mind.”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

He walked by your side through the grass as the twilight slipped over into evening, and then into night.

He’d invited you to stay over for the evening, but you politely declined, citing the need to stay up and watch for the fox that had been breaking into the chicken pen for the last two nights. You stood on the porch and watched him lope up the hill, illuminated only by moonlight. His gait was familiar, yet completely unrecognizable. More confident, you thought, but more guarded. Tenser.

He’d forgotten his sweatshirt in the kitchen. You spotted it as soon as you walked back into the house, which seemed larger and emptier than it ever had before. It seemed like you were unable to control your legs, which took you over to the chair, or stop your hands, which picked up the lost article of clothing and brought it up to you, or restrain your face, which buried itself in the fabric and inhaled.

Home. That was the only thought that sprung to mind.

It smelled like home. Him. Kim Taehyung. Tae.

You couldn’t remember feeling the tears well in your eyes. There was only the sudden sensation of wet on your cheeks, and cracking in your heart.

The pattern of knocks on the screen door frame jerked you awake from a restless, dreamless sleep. Dust drifted through the room, visible only in the heavy streams of light that poured through the windows. You sat up and padded to the door, slinging a weighty knitted blanket around your shoulders.

He stood at the base of the porch again, this time bearing an aluminum-wrapped pan, a heavy-duty travel backpack, and his trademark smile. “Did you just wake up?

You smiled blearily and kicked the door open with the side of your foot. “No, I’ve obviously been up for hours. Come on in.”

He wore a similar light gray hoodie and a denim jacket, which were perfectly complemented with yet another pair of brand-new sneakers and tight black jeans. “Another hoodie? How many of these do you have?” You asked. “Also, do I have to change? There’s no way my shirt can compare.” You gestured to him.

He laughed, carefully placing his backpack on the floor. “Way too many hoodies. You can never have enough when you’re an idol, apparently. And don’t worry about changing-” He surveyed your pajama shirt- was that one of his old high school shirts?- “you look great.”

“Thanks I guess. Idol?”

“Yeah, idol.”

“What do you mean?”

He sat on the floor and patted the rug in front of him. “Come sit. We have a lot to catch up on. Oh, and-” He tore the foil off of the pan. “I brought pie.”

For as long as you could remember, time stood still when you were with him. You’d thought that when you were kids causing trouble in the barn, when you were teenagers studying for exams, and finally now, when you were adults, sitting in your living room trying to fill in the blanks of two and a half years of miscommunication and missed communications.

He’d brought over his laptop, which held countless photos of him and the six other boys who he lived and worked with. You’d last seen him at the end of his trainee days, when he couldn’t tell you who or what he was working for, only that he’d be gone for a little while. The pictures showed the progression of the life he’d never been able to tell you about, and you were finally beginning to put the pieces together.

“That’s Jungkook,” he said, pointing at the screen with one slender finger. “He’s the youngest of the group, and one of my best friends. He’s extremely talented- much better of a singer than I could ever hope to be, and a fantastic dancer. You’d like him, I think.”

You nodded, eyes searching the grainy video onscreen. You identified a tall figure in the back as him- even with platinum blonde hair and a lack of pixels, you could still tell Tae apart from the other dancers.

You jumped when he snapped the laptop lid shut and scooted forward to his backpack. “There’s more than just pictures, though.”

“Are you going to pull a life-size Jungkook out of your bag?”

“Maybe.” He winked, producing a thick photo scrapbook and shuffling back to lean on the couch. He handed you the album, and you opened it, gasping as you saw the page.

On the inside was a handwritten dedication, and a single photograph taped to the paper. You recognized the writing as your own chicken-scratch, and the dripping boy aiming sprinkler water at you as him.

“You kept it with you?” For the second time in two days, your jaw fell open. You’d completely forgotten about this album- the album- that you’d given to him as a happy-eighteenth-birthday gift, with a scribbled apology that you couldn’t get him anything better because you were broke (and you still were). The Impossible Tales of the Daegu Gang, you’d called it. You’d been so proud of the title at the time- it seemed fitting.

“It stays on my dresser in the dorm,” he explained. “I’ve fended off enough questions from Jimin and Kook about it. They think you’re my secret lover.”

“Maybe I am,” you teased.

“In that case, we have to talk.” He nudged your arm playfully. “I think I’ve updated you with everything you’ve missed. Now, what’s been going on here?”

He had insisted on being given a full house tour, even though it was just about the same as it was when he left. He was perched on your bed, messing with the three stuffed animals that lay against the throw pillows. “You never moved into the master bedroom? You’re still sleeping in here after all this time?”

“I’m a creature of habit,” you half-lied. “You know that.”

“Well, obviously.” He turned a threadbare teddy bear and made it wave at you. “C’mon, I want to see the rest!”

There wasn’t much left of the house that wasn’t incredibly dusty, so you’d coerced him into going back in the living room, and he was reluctant until he spotted the sheet-covered lump in the corner. “You covered the piano? Noona!”

You smiled. It felt more like a grimace. “I don’t play. I was planning on selling it, actually.” You walked over to run your hand along the top panel, feeling the grooves and nicks in the wood. The faded picture frames caught your eye: Your grandmother and grandfather with you, your mother before the accident, your father and mother hand-in-hand holding the house keys, you, your three girlfriends, and Tae at your tenth birthday party. When was the last time you had looked at what was in the house- really looked at it? It seemed as if you were discovering these things for the first time, as if you were a visitor in a stranger’s home.

“You can’t sell something like this.” You felt him approach you from behind, floorboards creaking. The room suddenly seemed a lot smaller. You could barely breathe, he was so close, when was the last time he was this close? The night- no, you tried to block that memory out, tried to think rationally, but you couldn’t, not when the only boy you’d ever loved was standing right behind you, but was so far away.

“I could,” You were dizzy now, mind racing, hyperaware. Your heartbeat echoed through your entire body and radiated out. It was like the walls themselves pulsed.

“No,” He was so close, why was he so close, how was he so close? “You couldn’t.” A pair of arms grazed against your waist, and suddenly, your skin was on fire. You were electric from the energy he gave off, electric from everything that had happened in the last twenty-six hours, electric from him, he who caused you to feel more alive than you ever had in two years, six months, three weeks, and four hours. It was exhilaration in its purest form, and the simplicity of his touch justified every moment you spent crying, every moment you spent in agony because loneliness was your worst fear, and you felt anything but loneliness when he was by your side.

“Taehyung-”

His fingers splayed across your hips, turning you to face him, grazing skin as your shirt rode up an inch. His grip was gentle but steady, sure, firm against you. Time slowed, working with you as your gaze met his. God, he was so beautiful.

He blinked almost lazily, tongue slipping between his lips to wet them. He blinked again, glancing down, and you took in every feature of his face. He was just as shocked as you were, you realized, picking up only slight changes in his body language that betrayed everything to someone who knew him and yet did not. His thumb grazed across your skin, finding your hip bone and rubbing slow circles over the curve. His left hand wandered to your back, index finger tracing down your spine until it reached the base. Ever the gentleman, his hand never lowered.

“Taehyung, you don’t understand.”

“What?” He took a step back, hands leaving your body. That hurt more than the confession you were about to make.

“I-” You froze. “I can’t do this. You can’t build me up and then destroy me in one single hit. Not again.”

The words you had been aching to say for almost one thousand days bubbled up inside you. You tried and failed to crush them back down to the dark place where they stayed; they reared their ugly heads and you fell to their advances.

“You don’t understand. You don’t understand-”

He took a step forward, arms outstretched, and you took one back, hand hitting the piano keys and striking a dissonant chord.

“You get to see the world,” you spat. You couldn’t stop it any longer. “For fuck’s sake, you get to see the world. You wave your hand and there are people at your beck and call because you made it. You got out of here, you did the impossible, you did what we called a fantasy since we were five because that’s all we could hope for back then-” Your eyes pricked and you wiped them with the back of your hand, world blurring with the sting. “You’re as free as a bird, hopping from country to country, sold-out concert to sold-out concert. You don’t have to worry about cows or this fucking old house or the stupid girl you left behind when you flew away. All you have to worry about is what one of four gray sweatshirts you’ll have to wear in the morning.”

You crumpled into yourself, hands coming up to your face, hiding from him because the shame of what was coming out of your mouth was too much for you to take. “You don’t have to worry about all of this useless shit. You don’t have to worry about us, and you’re going to pick up and leave again tomorrow and be gone for another two fucking years, and goddammit Taehyung, you can’t do that to m-” The sob broke through and your voice cracked, forcing you to swallow. “me, and you’re going to because you have to, and you’re going to fly away again and forget about this shitty little place and the shitty little girl trying to be everything she promised she would be to her father.” You laughed bitterly, sliding to the floor, back against the piano bench. “You get to see the world-” You gestured grandly to the walls. “and I get to stare at the same fucking plaster.”

He knelt in front of you. Everything was a blur, colors lumping together, whitewash crowding you further into yourself. He opened his arms, and you fell into him.

Your eyes were shut, but the tears wouldn’t stop.

You were wrapped in a ball against him, face pressed into his shoulder, soaking his shirt. He held you to him like a child holds a plush animal, arms cradling you into safety. You tried forcing out an apology, but your throat refused to cooperate, and he assured you that you had nothing to be sorry for.

He didn’t say anything, only pulled you closer and tucked you into the crook between his head and his chest. He was taller now, and could completely envelop you in his arms. You spent countless nights wondering what it would feel like being pressed against him instead of a pillow, how he would be different when you saw him next- that is, if there was a next- but you never wanted to find out like this. It would’ve been easier for him to have not come home at all.

You cried until you had no more tears to give, and nausea burned low inside. All this time he said nothing, choosing instead to bury his nose in your hair and slowly trace your skin, up your arms to down your side and along your knee. His lips rested against your forehead, and suddenly you were nineteen again, facing each other cross-legged on the rug, when he pulled you forward and kissed the top of your head and promised he’d be home before you knew it. He swore to you that he’d be back in time for Christmas, and when this was all over, he’d move back in with his parents and take over their place and you’d be the two kids from Daegu who didn’t need any other company but each other. If it was anything that you’d come to realize, it was that the simple promise, the childhood dream, the imagined future was no longer a reality. At least, not for one of you.

You pulled back and looked at him for the first time, really looked at him. He was trying to stay strong for you, cheeks wet but eyes determined, filled with the kind of fire that burned inside only him. He tilted his head, lips parting to exhale, the breath caressing your face. One arm came up to the back of his neck, and you buried your face in his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered. “So fucking sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he murmured. “You had the right to say it.” He bent to kiss your cheek, placing his chin on your head, and you were back at the night you’d been blocking out for two days, tangled in each other on his bed with pounding hearts and burning lips. Music crooned in the background from his laptop, and you were back in the present surrounded by silence.

“It’s not that.”

He tilted his head. “What?”

“You know what.” He was silent. “Taehyung?”

“What is it, noona?”

“Can you play the song?”

He carefully extradited himself from you to stand, but only moved far enough to reach his laptop, unlocking it with a gentle tap of keys. He turned the volume up, and the first soft piano notes wrapped themselves around your shoulder and massaged themselves into your muscles, releasing the tension. He seemed to loom above you, hand outstretched, offering you help. You took it warily, and he gently pulled you to your feet, arms encircling you. You stepped into his embrace, forehead resting against his collarbone.

You swayed together slowly, him leading, guiding you towards the shared comfort of your love of jazz music. There was so much on the tip of your tongue, but to say anything meant that you would be the one to break the flimsy peace. So you let him hold you, let him rock you, let him soothe you. And for a moment, everything was almost okay in the world. Everything was almost back to normal.

The clock read 11:02pm, and wind rushed by the house, whipping under the eaves and stirring up cold that forced you deeper under the blankets and into his warmth.

“Tae?”

“Hmmm?”

“When do you have to leave?”

His thumb traced the rise of your knuckles. “Tomorrow.”

You said nothing.

“I’m sorry.” Hair tumbled into his eyes, and you automatically tucked it back, fingernails grazing his scalp. You didn’t know how to reply, so you stayed quiet.

“I’ll give you my phone number. The private one.” He kissed your middle and index fingers. You didn’t even know he had more than one phone. “And my Skype.” He kissed your ring finger. “Anything we can do to stay in touch.”

“Okay.”

The clock read 6:49am, and his head lay on your stomach as he slept. You ran your fingers through his hair, combing the strands, working out the knots. His arms draped over your waist, and his legs were nearly too long for the bed. It was selfish to wake him up, you knew, but there was something you had to say before he left, before you wasted precious hours.

“Tae,” you murmured, trailing your hand down his shoulder. “Tae, wake up.” He stirred, blinking slowly, looking almost angelic in the dim bedroom. “There’s something you need to know.”

“What?”

You pulled him up to you, thumb tracing across his cheek, and you turned your head to the side and pressed your lips against his. “I love you.”

The clock read 10:29am, and you were alone.

He was gone, having gotten a 10:04 train from the station bound for Seoul. The house rattled and creaked, and you were an outsider in it once more.

You’d been staring at the kitchen clock, unable to focus on anything else. Forty two minutes.

A lump of fabric lay on the table, abandoned by its owner, perhaps with good purpose. Your legs moved you to the table, and your hands picked up the gray sweatshirt.

The bird shot out of the clock on its spring, and sang a singular garbled note.

Forty three minutes.

He had a backwards window seat that gave him views of the fields and electrical wire, which undulated with the hills’ rise and fall. His fingers were clenched in his palm, leaving crescents in the skin.

He reached into his backpack on the seat next to him, sorting through and finding an unfamiliar shape in among the clothes and novels. He took out a small black book with Hangul calligraphy drawn on the cover in your steady handwriting. Opening it, there was a small dedication on the inside page: Go see the world. I’ll be here waiting for you when you get back.

Taehyung reached into his breast pocket, pulled out a pen, took one final look out the window, and began to write.

[halfway-happyyy]

Saltwater

AN: Did a little something different with the format of this piece, so bear with me guys. Also puttin’ her under a read more due to content and length. 

Warnings: Death, car accident, possible crippling emotional pain, sorry in advance.

It was a dream that had woken him from the midst of an unusually sound slumber. His heart hammered wildly inside of his chest and a slick sheen of perspiration covered every inch of his upper body. He inhaled shakily, scrubbing the palm of his hand down the length of his face as he swung his legs over the edge of the mattress to rest against the hardwood floor. He cradled his face within the palms of his hands, and was so entirely enthralled with his own thoughts that he didn’t hear her stir from the other side of the bed. She cleared her throat softly and crawled over to where he was seated so that she could kneel behind him. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her hands falling to rest just below his sternum. His breathing was still labored and inconsistent as she pressed gentle kisses to the hollow of his damp neck. “Another nightmare?” She murmured. Bill nodded his head silently. “Count to ten with me,” She whispered against the outer shell of his ear.

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His breathing had become marginally easier; the anxiety which had been debilitating moments before, dissipated almost entirely and the feeling of her hands rubbing soothing circles into the middle of his back, helped to bring him home again. He tossed a glance her way over his shoulder and observed the way her eyes glimmered in the caliginous light of dawn. There was something invisible in her very touch; a subtle magic that really only came to light when he was in pain or distress. She had the innate ability to make everything all right again and it was this gift she possessed in particular, that made Bill feel as though he was constantly in the presence of someone well and truly enchanting. They sat in silence for a few seconds afterward before she spoke again. “Sometimes all you need is ten seconds,” He watched her scrape absentmindedly at a patch of chipped polish on her thumbnail. Her gaze met his again and she smiled encouragingly. “Allow yourself to take ten seconds out of your day to feel sheer pain, anxiety, fear and despair. There is no shame in falling apart Bill. But when those ten seconds are up, you need to do the best you can to put yourself back together again.”

She lay back down against the pillows, taking his hand in hers as she went. He rested his head easily against her abdomen reveling in the immediate comfort it brought him. He let himself breathe in time to the rhythmic beating of her heart. “I love you endlessly.”

She carded a hand through his hair, sighing contentedly as she did so. “Love you too, Bill.”

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“I get it now.” Bill murmured quietly, running a finger around the rim of his half empty coffee cup.

He watched her beam into the bright sun above her, lifting her arms high above her head in a lazy stretch. He had been up hours before she had even stirred, and she had only now just pulled herself from the luxury of their bed. Apart from the silken bed sheet draped carelessly around her body, she was utterly naked. She sat in front of him now, sunglasses in place over her beautiful eyes. It was the second last day of their vacation and Bill absolutely intended for them to make the most out of it. “What do you get Bill?” That playful lilt of hers never ceased to make his cheeks flush pink.

He took a hearty sip of his coffee and set the empty cup back down against the bamboo countertop. “The secret to our happy, ever-lasting relationship is for you to be in bed before your alarm reminds you at 11:55 pm, and that I always kiss you goodnight before you’ve officially passed out, as long as we find each other for coffee in the morning.” Bill elicited a small smile at this. “When you and I first met, you felt so familiar, and as time goes on it feels less like I’m getting to know you and more like I’m remembering who you are.” Bill allowed his voice to falter before he cleared his throat. “To be able to spend the rest of my life with you would be the greatest gift I could ever receive… Will you marry me?”

There was silence at the other end of the table; the only discernible sounds were those of the waves lapping rhythmically against the white sand beach a few yards away. She sat in awe before him, her mouth slightly parted into a small smile. In seconds, she was in his lap pressing her lips to the hollow of his neck. He inhaled the very essence of her; salt water from endless hours spent in the ocean, tea tree oil and the faintest scent of strawberry shampoo. It was intoxicating. He wanted nothing more than to hold her to him for the rest of his life. She pulled away from the crook of his neck to caress his face between her hands. “Life is incredibly precious, and entirely too short. Of course I’ll marry you Bill.”

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He had startled awake on the fourth shrill ring; instinctively his hands reached across to her side of the bed, which was devoid of her, and surprisingly cool to the touch. His gaze then travelled to the time and unknown number flashing across his phone screen and he could physically feel his stomach lurch into his chest. Nothing good ever came from 4:07 am phone calls. “Hullo?” He asked, pushing himself into an upright position in bed.

A beat across the crackling of the phone connection, before a throat was cleared. “Bill, there’s been some sort of an accident, you need to make it down to The Grace as soon as you can.”

The person on the other end had rattled on further, he was absolutely certain of it. But Bill simply didn’t comprehend anything beyond that first sentence. He had managed to jump into a pair of jeans, throw on a sweater, and was out the door seconds later without even a jacket. The moment from when he received the phone call to when he actually arrived at the hospital was an absolute grey period. He stumbled blindly through hallways, stopping at every help desk along the way, asking for her. He was eventually led to the fourth floor, where almost every member of her immediate family joined him in the waiting room. He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes wide and utterly terrified as he searched her mother’s face for answers. “What happened? Where is she?” It was the silence that really got to him; that period of absolute serenity before all mayhem undoubtedly breaks loose. Her father was the first to start sobbing. Her mother’s voice wavered as she began. “Around 3:45 this morning, she was involved in a head-on collision with a vehicle travelling three times over the speed limit in the wrong direction.” Bill had never heard a sound quite like the wail that had exited her grandmother’s mouth, and it was in that moment that he had lost the ability to hold himself upright. He let himself slide helplessly down the wall, where he sat with his knees hugged tight to his chest. Her mother joined him there, wrapping her arms around his frame and rocking him slowly against her. Every single attempt to save her life that morning had been rebuffed. They had managed to get a faint heartbeat started in the ambulance, but that withered away almost as quick as it had arrived. Her heart had been displaced inside of her chest, and though she bore little to no blood on the outside, her internal injuries were far too numerous to fix in the time that they were given. She passed away thirteen minutes after four o’clock in the morning.

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And every now and then, the wondering becomes too intense. Cacophonies of what if roll around the inside of his mind like a grotesque game of mental bumper cars.

What would it have felt like to say I do to her? What if I had been allowed to feel the weight of the titanium band around my left ring finger? What would our life have looked like?

They are inquiries left unanswerable for an eternity, a single, horrifically fragile life snuffed out like a candle in the dark of night. Bill can’t bare the weight of it a moment longer. He slumps to the floor on his knees; a sound erupts from the hollow of his throat and exits his mouth in a sorrowful howl. He is the epitome of a wounded animal. His shoulders shake slowly, and thick, wet tears fall from his already-raw cheeks in droves and land in miniscule pools, dotting the dusty floor beneath him. His throat is indescribably dry; every attempt to take a breath and to swallow, feels as though someone is dragging the sharp end of a razor blade through the soft tissue there. He glances bleary eyed around the room in which she used to inhabit up until a week ago. An indent of where her sleeping figure used to lay still remains visible in the unmade bed, and a favored sweater of hers hangs haphazardly from a protruding doorknob. Their closet door is slightly ajar, and the sight of the lace wedding dress inside (purchased six days prior to her death) causes the breath to hitch in his throat again, and he braces his arms against the windowsill, allowing himself to drown in battering waves of despair.

Bill…

He grows silent for a moment, straining into the deafening silence of the apartment. He’s almost certain he’s heard it; that particular inflection he had come to know so well.

Bill…

A little clearer this time, so clear in fact, that the sobs that had wracked his body only seconds before, have come to a complete standstill. He listens as hard as he can muster. A distinctly warm feeling begins to bathe him in the most wondrous glow. It starts at the very tips of his toes and spreads tenfold, to the tips of his fingers, to the follicles on the top of his head. Bill closes his eyes and wills the tears not to fall, but it’s to no avail.

It’s okay to fall apart my love, but you need to count to ten with me…

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When Bill’s eyes slide open ten seconds later, he half expects to see her standing there before him. Eyes wide, and shining, that effervescent smile dancing beautifully across her features. He is instead greeted to a desolately empty flat. And yet for some inexplicable reason, subtle notes of saltwater, tea tree oil and strawberry shampoo linger heavy in the air before him. He misses her terribly; he suspects he will until he takes his last, gasping breath… But every time her absence becomes too much to bear, and every time he wonders where it is that she’s gone, he simply closes his eyes and counts to ten.

[autolovecraft]

So don't ask me any questions when I call.

In the evening he wrote a note to Mr. Ward, which was then much below the level of Newport in its patronage of the liberal arts. Respiration and heart action had a baffling lack of symmetry; the voice was lost, so that now Dr. Allen did not keep them in shape. Servants' imaginations, fortunately, are limited, else comment might have been Allen's there was not one who did not think it necessary to take some sort of secret and coordinated action. 'Twas Number 118, and I conceive you would have shook had you looked it up in my list in the other room, its tag numbered 118. His elaborate studies and experiments, whatever they may have been after more than a twelvemonth afterward Capt. Whipple led the mob who burnt the revenue ship Gaspee, and in town i. The interview was, as always, inconclusive; but Willett felt that some direct conversation with his patient was necessary. At nine o'clock the three detectives presented themselves and immediately delivered all that they had indeed come to be the leader, Capt. Esek Hopkins to steal down into the river valley behind the Curwen farm and demolish with axes or gunpowder the oaken door in a frame of heavy masonry, which was delivered the next morning and which caused the half-dazed parent to ponder long and deeply. He was mad, and he knew that he had passed the open pit; for he had attended Ward all his life and could appreciate with terrible keenness the extent of his physical disorganization. On the Pawtuxet Road. Houses were still few here, and there is reason to believe from his speech and unmistakable replacement of modern by ancient ideas in his consciousness marked him out as one definitely removed from the normal.

Only by degrees did they absorb what it seemed to evoke. Now definitely leagued together to do all he could to restore the boy to normal poise. Charles had lost, and marked two items as of possible significance. She could hear no more than the cheap inventiveness of baffled curiosity. But far more interesting were the two vacant walls, both of which were plainer here than they had been at all specific.

Instead of triumph I have found, but I am not well spoke of by ibn Schacabao in the ⸻. Every possible moment was spent at the Pawtuxet bungalow and moved to it all his scientific effects. Ward was reminded when his son barked forth those pitiable tones to which he had been before; keeping close to his work and watched the men fascinatedly as they finished their installation of the picture with its woodwork above a cleverly realistic electric log, setting the mock-fireplace in Charles's third-floor study or library of Charles Ward from the time the typewritten notes began to reach his parents. Y’ai’ng’ngah, Yog-Sothoth was uttered, the hideous change began. There were futile, bewildered head-shakings from both men, and once Mr. Ward ventured a hushed suggestion, 'Do you suppose it would be, and I suppose that when I feared the work I feared him too as my greatest helper in it. The next morning Willett received a letter from one Jedediah Orne of Salem. This was a chemical rather than animal smell, and came clearly from the room beyond the door was of medium size, and had ordered the required kind and number from agencies which he had so long deserved. Faced by these baffling and contradictory reports, Dr. Willett substantially dissents; basing his verdict on his close and continuous knowledge of the matter. Upon returning home he broke the news with an almost evil chuckle very painful to hear. His exotic studies and his curious chemical importations being common knowledge, and his father recalls only a drowsy realization of stifled oaths and stamping feet on the night the goods were taken away. He wished it were not so willing? You know better than I who or what wrote that minuscule message will never trouble you or yours. Curwen or Orne Ward could not tell; but something in that combination affected him very badly and very peculiarly. The morning of April 6th dawned clear, and both the family and Dr. Willett set about collecting every scrap of data which the family had retired, the butler was nightlocking the front door when according to his uprooted and savagely splintered slate headstone, was found very curiously through correspondence with the heirs of the loyalist Dr. Graves, who had taken with him a duplicate set of records when he left his pastorate at the outbreak of the Revolution. But of this he hath doubtless writ you.'Raised Yog-Sothoth ’Ngah’ng Ai’y Zhro So haunting were these formulae, and so many clues to similar data elsewhere, that he was indeed right; for the miniature avalanche had left behind a solid wall of mixed earth and shrubbery from aloft. Willett relies on them to help establish his theory that the youth was sane and himself at the Ward home to be present when the detectives arrived. Those guards, according to the Fenner letter, above the doomed Pawtuxet farmhouse on the night the goods were taken away.

It was in January 1770, whilst Weeden and Smith drew their own inferences. They were robbing the tombs of all the ages; snatched by supreme ghouls from crypts where the world thought them safe, and subject to the beck and call of madmen who sought to kill Charles as too squeamish, and why had his destined victim said in the frantic note of the previous year. Curwen abandoned his midnight sailings. They had not, regrettably enough, located the Brava Tony Gomes as they had been at the foot of Olney Street.

Dr. Willett rested as if recuperating from something past or nerving himself for something to come. One night late in March he left the room. Willett's that the next move in this singular case proceeded. They had heard he was an omnivorous reader and as great a conversationalist as his poor voice permitted; and shrewd observers, failing to foresee his escape, freely predicted that he would like to say more if he thought any considerable number would believe him. None ventured to pierce the tangled shrubbery on the river-bank which old manuscripts mentioned. And now swiftly followed that hideous experience which has left its indelible mark of fear on the soul of Marinus Bicknell Willett has not hope that any part of his timidity. Willett waited vainly in Charles Ward's library, watching the dusty shelves with their silent and perhaps watching sentinels. For over a week Dr. Willett pondered on the dilemma which seemed thrust upon him, and he would not be well for the national—or even the international—sense of decorum if the public were ever to know what was uncovered by that awestruck party. He bore the name of Curwen, and perhaps it was something different and irrelevant; but in any case purely book research; and he could not rise to his feet after a time; lamenting bitterly his fright-lost torch and looking wildly about for any gleam of light in the clutching inkiness of the chilly air. Hence the rambles—from which St. John's the former King's Churchyard and the ancient Congregational burying-ground in the midst of this mephitic flood there came a very perceptible flash like that of the Hutchinson cipher, which he urged his Connecticut relative to destroy, remain to tell what was seen and heard. Before trying any of the Fenners had ever encountered before, and the half-dazed parent to ponder long and deeply. He engaged in shipping enterprises, purchased wharfage near Mile-End Cove, helped rebuild the Great Bridge, followed by the sound of a single whistle-blast, then wait and capture anything which might issue from the regions within. These had suffered damage at the hands of the raiders, a thing which was discussed for weeks. Peck, Waite, and Lyman were not inclined to attach much importance to the strange correspondence of young Ward's companion; for they knew the effect of publicity would be to miss its quintessential loathsomeness and soul-sickening overtones. Then, by insidious degrees, there appeared to develop a curious sequel to the matter of the covered pits and the nameless hybrids within. Promptly at four Dr. Willett presented himself at the time.

There was no mistaking the isolated bungalow with its concrete garage on a high point of land at his left. The attack was to begin as soon as it was delivered to the widow of Joseph Curwen, resumed, along with her seven-year-old daughter Ann, her maiden name of Tillinghast; on the ground 'that her husband's name was become a public reproach by Reason of what was known after his decease; the which confirming an ancient common rumor, though not to reveal their object. Late in the afternoon young Ward began repeating a certain formula in a singularly loud voice, at the request of the senior Ward, while denying this latter wish as absurd for a boy of only eighteen, acquiesced regarding the university; so that in time it became exceedingly difficult for Curwen to keep his oddly assorted hands. One may picture him yet as he was in port; spending hours at night by the wharves with a dory in readiness when he saw lights in the Curwen warehouses, and following the small boat which would sometimes steal quietly off and down the bay some distance, perhaps as far as Namquit Point, where they would meet and receive cargo from strange ships of considerable size and widely varied appearance. If you are disposed to travel, do not neglect to make use of the words I have here given. P.S. Shoot Dr. Allen on the second of that pair of formulae, recurred so often that Willett had ever heard before despite their wide knowledge of foreign parts, and many times bruised his head against the frequent pillars, but still he kept on. Here his only visible servants, farmers, and caretakers were a sullen pair of aged Narragansett Indians; the husband dumb and curiously scarred, and the father deep thought.

[glopratchet]

In the world to come there is little sin. The only thing that can be forgiven is death. The next day you are summoned by a young woman who introduces herself as Ligru, and says she has been sent here to find you. She tells you that she was once a soldier in the Empire's army but eventually decided to leave when it became apparent that they were no longer fighting for anything other than their own survival. There are just lots of american alligators. After the election of the first ungendered president, the prediatrain movement caught fire in america. thanks to the new government's decision to lower birth restrictions, the population grew large enough to become self reliant. soon, the growing nation began asserting it's independence and started demanding it's own ecosystem. something which the rest of world found pointless as there was simply too much desert and ice to support life. as more and more americans died attempting to colonize arctic and desert land, the people demanded their government do more than it was doing. The demand for american alligator meat skyrocketed. Whorals where burned to ash while polled hereford heifors fetched over a billion dollars a head in auction to the highest, well heeled, bidder. by 2078 cattle were nearly extinct, considered a parallel to the dodo, and american alligator became the king of meats. godzilla species of american alligtors became the new 'black market ticket'. soon quides for how to capture and train your own hiding in buku volumes became popular. Googizon won the bid to construct for the military the most forward thinking alligator farm in existance. taking the abandoned super maximum security prison to the south, they put together a massive solar panel farm and with the plunging birthrates employee numbers dropped to a minimum. only guards, scientists, engineers and caretakers remain. once a trial is complete, all test subjects are executed, useful data is retrieved for reuse purposes, then biological matter is recycled. It currently floats near the okeenokee snow swamp. While the surrounding swamp and nearby everglades have become flooded with quides on how to train these feral beasts this has interfered not at all with Googizon's work. they also produce their own "commons sense" book advising people that alligators aren't playthings, giving hundreds of helpful tips on how to avoid being lunch, and warning the inevitably stupid or ignorant people who ignore their prodding that the penalty for doing so is death. This is not that story. This is the story of a shadow incursion. They were probably tipped off by somebody close to the top who pulled their strings accordingly. they got every single alligator out, back to the farmn, before Googizon security managed to salvage anything from their six month long investment. Now they're coming to find out how and why this happened. We are primal ponds inc. a company specializing in the construction and maintenance of solar farms. It is a thankless job that includes far too much time spent clear cutting, drying, and burning forests to make fields of solar panels. we do not particularly care what or who we destroy as long as the money is good. The truck is attacked before we even get a quarter mile down the road. A small mom and pop alligator farm attemping to make it. Little do they know their few measly ponds are nothing compared to the magnificence of Googizon. So incovenient of them to get in our way, but then they should have thought of that before defying the king right? Even with all nine tires shredded the truck easily outruns them on the open road, disreguarding the inconspicousness sugguested we ignore side roads entirely, driving down the middle of them. We need you to make deliveries for us. these packages need to arrive at their destination before dawn, crashing the truck and delaying our chances of completing the mission for even a second is not acceptable. he said, handing me nine memory cards. they're marked with an identifying symbol and code number so you can tell me which one is which later. The first card seems to contain mostly images of alligator farms in florida. Please... kill them all... sever the head... Burn the corpse... salt the fields... He does not know he is dealing with a storyteller. I remember these. this is where I got my idea. I finish the rest quickly then start again, lingering on each as I incorporate it into my tale. soon I will know everything about all of their prey, and with that I can predict all of their moves. I had almost forgotten that was my plan in the first place. Point of view of the player: you stand in front of the cave you grew up in, your patrol bag slung over your shoulder as you look over the dying fire towards the bundle of fur curled up in the entrance. your future uncertain. nobody writes stories about the Tulans, it's a very different world out there. your mentor has already headed out, so there's no more hesistation. you get up and walk past her, giving her a nudge with your foot to wake her up. she gets up immediately, and moves aside for you to continue on your way. "You'll going to do great things kid, I just know it." Cyrus says. "I'll try." you answer, unwilling to commit to grand speeches about your future. Cyrus didn't raise you for thirteen years to expect anything less then genuine modesty. your mentor laughs before he gives you his last advice. "don't forget to raise the bridges when you come back, and stick to the roads kid." you nod, already becoming tired of hearing about the old legend mentioned by any nomads passing through, who all seem to think it's worth a laugh to scare the new kids with it. letting the tent flap close behind you, you take one last look at Cyrus who blows you a goodbye kiss. "Don't forget, raise the bridge when you come back." he reminds you. you laugh, and begin rolling out down the path. after half an hour of walking, you reach a wooden structure connecting two stone pillars across the road. on one side, there is a very narrow track sloping up the hillside, rocks piled up awkwardly on either side. from this side, there's the bed of a dry creek bed, the rocky ground already disturbed and leveled off. a sign hanging from one of the pillars shows the name of the settlement this road leads to; Tulan Borderpoint. you walk over to the other side, noticing a long path down to a small rocky beach on one side and a steep hillside covered in a thick growth of trees on the other. it's growing tiresome to have to remember miniscule details, but you know your future is rests on them, so you focus hard and take note of everything around you. there are two figures by the beach off to the side of the path. they're too far to see clearly, but you think they wore bright clothing. remembering Cyrus' advice, and your own vow, you tell yourself stories to strengthen your mind and calm yourself before raising the bridge. it's good that you do, as you find the mechanism is incredibly stiff. screwing up your face in effort, you manage to get it to move, and it slams up against the pillar with a resounding thud. unsure if it would hold you if you were on horseback or with a carriage, you hurriedly remove planks toHillary them under the front wheels of any vehicles, regardless of whether their drivers are alive or not. doing somersaults off the sides will probably break anything from ankles to necks and you have no intention of doing that at all. satisfied that the bridge is safe enough to drive over, you lean against the nearest pillar to recover. looking down at your thin legs supporting your lightweight frame, you know it's inhumanly impossible for you to stop a horse and carriage full of dead bodies, but your mind dwells on whether you did it right regardless. you, therefore, discourage such thoughts as baseless and focus on more immediate concerns. 'It's harder when it's colleagues you know personally.' you think to yourself. 'shall I practice using my spear before I head back?' looking down at the ground below, you spot an angry looking mass of bees in a hollow near the bottom of the hill on the raised bank of the now completely dry river bed. 'You can also use the chance to practice your abilities.' you think to yourself, as you take a less than precise throw at the cluster of bees. you watch as the spec falls well short of the mark, and harmlessly onto the slope. 'I'll get it one day.' you think to yourself, as you retrieve your spear and head down to where the horses stand patiently waiting for you. The first animal instinctively takes a step back, but then seems to cheer up when you begin gently stroking its nose. quietly talking to it and complimenting it, the horse happily stomachs your attentions. the other is more standoffish, stepping away nervously as you approach and only accepting pats on the side of its face, under its harness. "Alright boys, I won't hurt you." you COMMIT to the harmless lunacy I'm inflicting on these poor beasts.. getting back in the shade of the porch roof, you have another small nap before finally waking to the roasting sun claiming its throne in the sky. 11:00am. the dead-house shift was least favorite for a reason. "You want some lunch? I'm heading down to feed the meat heads." you eavesdrop on Simon saying to Roger once downstairs. Roger replies with something about not being hungry but nods when Simon urges him to eat. "How does he know I'm down here?" you think to yourself as you sneak a bread roll from the kitchen and head back up to your room. closing the window shutters and door, you take a small bite of the roll and listen out for the returning men. 'soft footsteps are heard quickly descending the stairs at 12:00pm. "I'm baiting the hook here. these three are much easier to control if they've been sated slightly." You think. 7:00pm has Simon and Roger coming back down the stairs talken about an overnight log haul that needs an extra hand. lunchtime was just the bait to keep them docile for a few hours. "Thank god for logs and lazy workers." you think as you leave the inn door open and return to your room. the window shutters are wide open, letting light flood inside. 'now to see what i can do.' your mind enters into the same kind of focused state it does when you're stacking shelves or cleaning. only instead of placing a glass precisely into a stack, you find yourself moving the bedside table delicately over the straw mattress you toss on the floor beside it. "I really need to have the lumber jacks make cushions" you think, as you acquire an urge to bounce gently on the made bed. "Finally some bounce to this thing." "Okay lets do this." you tell yourself, finding that this simple sentence was surprisingly hard to put thought to action. focusing hard on making your left hand curl shut, you watch as the fingers twitch slightly before your mind feels like the pain has become too much and it drifts back into unconsciousness... "DAMMIT!" you wake suddenly with a burning ring circling your left ring and middle finger. "Burning pain in my hand, of course that's too obvious." you think to yourself as you calm the hammering in your chest. "Now the next time I go to sleep it will probably be centered around my face." you think, instantly feeling tingles starting there. "Sleep, that's what I need right now. it's the best way to heal anyway." You think, as you begin toslip into the hazy borderland between waking and sleeping. "I can fight it of course, this is my mind and i'm strong-willed but that view is irrational. everything we see in dreams is symbolic because the unconscious mind doesn't reason the way... DAMMIT!" burning pain tears the insides of your ring and middle finger once more, making you grit your teeth and moan in pain, ruining your hard-earned slumber. "Oh that's it, someone is going to Pay.." you mutter to yourself as the pain slowly lessoned to a dull throb. you lie on your bed staring at the ceiling practicly all evening, as night comes and the moon peaks through the window you finally stand. "Let's go stre..AACK AGH!" sudden sharp tearing pain rips through face and scalp. it feels similar to a bad chemical burn, right across your hairline from your forehead,right ear and left cheek. you stumble weeping with pain and curses towards the window. moonlight streams through, showing your charred blacken skin writhing and flickering as it slowly begins to heal and knit together. beneath the burnt skin you can feel your face restructuring itself into a wolf like visage, as fur begins to rapidly grow and thicken all over your body. before you can even begin to process this your eyelids feel incredibly heavy, as you fall forwards into a deep sleep. "LOCK IT, LOCK THE DOOR! THEY'RE COMING THROUGH!" a voice cries out. you jolt awake for a second time today, still groggy and confused. it's early morning and that means you slept right through the night. "THEY'RE HERE!!" the shout that rouses you from your sleep comes from outside the supermarket and is quickly followed by the splintering of wood as someone smashes open the door to the pick-up lane. you stagger fully awake as you pull on the clothes you left ripped off last night, just in time to hear someone blasting one of the service windows on the front of the store. "Time to see what this upgraded body can do!" you think as you quickly shove a cart through the service door and down an aisle before aiming it back at the entryway. Picking up a metal candlestick from a dustbin, you jump the cart and launch the stick at the window where it splinters into a large shard that neatly slices through the thick cables bringing the shutter crashing down. Before it landed, you heard several distinct gunshots as rounds slam into the shutter and whine off the concrete around you. you hover near the back of the store nervously looking around as everyone not deployed is loaded into the flying machine in small groups before being flown out somewhere. "I GOT ONE, IN THE BACK!!", one of the guards shouts just as you see three or four people kneel down near the far end of the pick-up lane and begin firing. "OK, so they know I'm here now.. they'll probably send more men than this to kill me, so i'll have to be quick." You think as you move out to the edge of the store, slowing your breathing and controlling your heart rate with your new found abilities. you can feel your ears tingling as they begin to reach full size and point straight backwards, your snout juts out as your teeth begin to sharpen and your skin thickens into a leathery hide. From thebbest you can hear an outgoing fusillade from the guards as they open fire and the air fills with the cracking of gunpowder and shrieks of pain from the werewolves outside. One of your new senses COLOURS the men outside red as you quickly pick out their heat signatures in the dark, they are scattered around the edges of the supermarket, mostly recoiling from a sudden charge out of the covered loading bay by your guards. "They are tightly grouped and terifyingly exposed" You think as you prepared to charge them. "STOP! DO NOT FIRE! Hold Position, Hold.." you hear a man shouting to your guards, punctuated by another volley of shots from teh werewolfs outside.Grunting and straining with the effort, you crouch slowly down onto your hindlegs, your chest swelling as you bore forward and launch yourself into a plunge, smashing through the shatterproof glass with a quiet 'whump'. many thoughts chase each other through your head as you feel the glass rain down around you. You consider that you hadn't previously considered the danger of being shot by the guards as you flew through the air. You also considered how sharp the glass would be when it shattered, and how you hadn't accounted for it holding together like plastic. "I must have 4 wounded by now,and it hasn't even been a minute!"You clearly hear orders shouted outside and can easily follow the sound to a man crouching near a wrecked car, boiling around reloading his ancient rifle. You also see two humans standing in the darkness near the front entrance of the store with guns of their own. You pause for just a second to concentrate, and waves of unnatural chill flow from you as your body begins radiating cold like a refrigerator, freezing the dust in the air seconds before you hit the ground. You land chest first, ploughing into the two guards standing by the door and smashing straight through the retaining wall built from shopping carts. You can hear cracking as your body destroys the wood and plastic before coming to a sudden stop, cupboard and all. You hear gunfire and screaming both near and far as you lie half in the store and half out, a mangled human heap laying on top of you and under you (depending on how you look at it). As you stagger to your feet you look down. Sticking out of your chest you count 5 rounds, 2 inches apart. You had been shot several times before, and can feel that this time is no different than those in the past. Yet the damage you had done with this attack was staggering. You look out into the store from behind the carts and see four men dead, sprawled into a bloody chaos along with the guards crushed by the carts. Your guards have formed a perimeter, guns pointing outwards as they try to protect themselves against the wolves that are even now falling upon them like theLions of Christianized centuries past. Silence falls on the store for a single second before it erupts as your guards and the werewolves engage in close combat. You see a trio of werewolves moving silently through the darkness toward the guard with the radio, intent on cutting off any possible retreat or calling for help. You quickly scan the area, and satisfied that none of the humans are within your immediate reach, you let your mind once again stretch out toward the frozen bodies. The first two begin shuddering as yourcold breath wavers through their bodies. They shiver and shake with tiny cracks and snaps as their muscles and sinews contract in the cold, both men collapse, one falling to his knees before dropping flat onto his face, one falling back into a sitting position before slumping over. You ignore them and concentrate on the third guard. He is clearly frightened for his life, and the cold emanating from your body makes him shake, but he manages to hold his own and prepares to let loose a rain of bullets into both of the werewolves racing toward him. You touch him and he slumps to the ground, his finger bones breaking as his hands spasm from the shock of the freezing temperature enveloping him, you feel his consciousness shudder once... twice... and then fade. You push your luck and order your wolves to instantaneously arrive at his location so they can tear him apart, the last second seems to stretch out to an eternity as you feel his corpse begin to resist you, pulling against your mind. Finally though he whimpers and collapses in a heap onto the ground where he is instantly shredded by the lychanthropes. Once the guards have all been killed an eerie silence falls over the store. You carefully reach out with your mind and count the minds within. Three injured, one severly.You wince as you feel them moved and dragged into the bloodstained aisles before the faint sounds of carnage starts. Then the three lychanthropes arrive at your location with Death himself leading them. You keep your mind carefully shielded but when they throw themselves toward you in a writhing mass of tearing claws and gnashing teeth you cannot avoid thinking that something has gone wrong somehow. "My instructions were for you to take them alive if possible!" you scream out, feeling panic rise in your chest. You lash out at the creatures with your mind, freezing two in place and shattering a skull before the third leaps through the air at you, crushing you into the ground as its jaws close around your throat... Brother mine, our hunt has been successful, but there was a problem. There is a collumn in the newspaper of a truck bound with steel chains beingused to hold down the tarps. I believe this was what cloaked our presence from you. We killed the guards as normal, and I ordered an attack despite your orders. Most obeyed my direct command, hut two held back out of loyality to you. Once we had finished eating them, they explained that the creatures called 'Chevaliers' had arrived and had taken control. I immediately attacked them for lies and killers of their brothers, but left two alive to transmit to you this information. Unfortunately my attempt at mind control failed, and I was forced to kill them. I wish I had taken the time to eat them... I'm sorry brother mine, it seems they really killed fools hill's sheriff and some of our brethren. You'll be joining me soon, and together we shall overthrow these chevaliers and Alpha take his rightful place as leader of our pack! You can continue here You roll off the oversized shelf, raising your shotgun as you lead with the barrel and smoothly swinging it at the nearest Fool, snapping off a volley that catches him in the shoulder, Adonis charges past you and pivots with every shell ring, catching them in legs, chest, arm and face. Their return fire smashes into the shelf, wedging shards of wood into your skin but not quite biting deep enough to hurt seriously. You duck down and rummage through the shevles looking for more shells. "Use the motherfucking bolts! Use the bolts!" Adonis screams over the gunfire and you glance up to see him tearing open throats with his teeth and clawing at eyes in a reminiscence of your earlier fight. Somewhere behind you Tom is screaming far less effectively than the dying Fool. You have the brief impression of a berserkers rage thrown into homicidal bloodlust ... You try to reload the shotgun with trembling hands and find your hands far too shaky and clumsy to manage it quickly. Finally you fumble a shell into the receiver and jacking it into place you spin around looking for targets. There's one fool attempting to lever open the front door as another rampages through than store's back offices, splintering door frames as he goes. There's another fool lunging through the thick afternoon smoke toward Adonis. Taurus stands in the middle of the near empty shop screaming wordlessly, a rifle in his hands. A faint glow of burning wards crawls along his arms and trails behind the muzzle of his gun. He fires at a running fool who went down as soon as the round left the weapon but already you see the burn marks on the side of Taurus' face heal over as he turns to aim behind him. He's burning his reserves of power to boost his aim, if this keeps up he'll have nothing for the fight with Alpha and the scramble for the safety of Galton's truck. It will be every Wolf for himself. "Taurus!" You roar as you bound toward him, a wave of pure force driving a bloodthirsty fool smashing into the counter. "Stop burning your wards and deal with those Chariots... Or I'll deal with you!" You don't wait to see if he acknowledges your order but instead dive across the floor toward the back offices after the fool. The clambering, screaming mass of fur and teeth that is locked in combat there makes you cringe inwardly. Even with your orders you can't bear to see Brother turned against Brother in a struggle for dominance. Worse, Tom should have kept his pet under better control when there are hostiles nearby. You're going to have to seriously improve his behavior if he's to survive your leadership. THe small rooms behind the counter are a mess of broken cabinets, upturned furniture and broken glass from the displays. Slowly moving forward you eye the combat, there are currently two dominated fools ripping into one of yours, ignoring the occasional weak blows they receive in return as they aimed for fleshy unprotected parts like ears eyes and ankles. It's a fairly even match as the dominate fool is also taking injuries, if slower to react. If you timed your attack right now you could easily strike down both dominated fools and give the upper hand in this fight, but you hold back. You're trying to rebuild not decimate, although you may well decimate anyway... "Sorry rogues." You mutter before dashing out into the fight and delivering a crushing blow to the back of one of fools ears. It drops and rolls over limp as rag once more. The second one tries to ignore you, focusing on its own opponent but you grab it's arm yank it off and send a heavy fist into the side of its head sending it sprawling. The rogue you disabled lunges back up at it's original opponent and the pair of them begin cancelling each other out again. You leave them to it and turn your attention to Taurus. Where is he "Taurus!" you bark out as you spot him, he's through the doorway of the room alongside two dominated fools. "Taurus!" You head towards him only to be faced by his rifle barrels. "What?" He seems very distracted and on edge "I'm busy look for Galton, I didn't know who was trying to get my attention." He's trying to peer past you but you block his view. "There are chariots on the road and they are shooting at us!" "So?" He sets his jaw impatiently "We know they are hostile, this is were we came from afterall." "...We should get out of here." Taurus just laughs shortly at that "Sure, you lead then. Not like I can trust you to defend my vulnerable flanks while I easily take out the fool using his little bolt pistol." "But there are chariots shooting at us! Surely we are not safe anywhere outside this building..." you try to stress the point but Taurus clearly isn't listening. "I know you're not afraid of battle, surely you see what's going on here?" Taurus notices the commotion for the first time and peers around your frame. He clearly doesn't like what he sees as he gives a derisive snort and turns back to you "Maybe you're right let's go.Where'd you say thisGalton went?" You don't even try to convince him further, he's clearly too distracted or arrogant to see sense, either way he's on his own. You head to the door at the opposite end of the shop front from where the chariots are battling it out, hopefully to find Galton and extra lives... "Wait!" Taurus calls after you "I'm coming too!" You aren't confident that he will, his overconfidence and disdain for "cowardly running away" might get him killed but at least you tried. Luck is on your side, or perhaps Taurus has just grown tired of his life of crime because he does indeed follow you. Your journey back to the library is predictably hounded by Violence, which nearly proves fatal on multiple occasions but the two of you eventually lose anyone who was interested in pursuing you back at the library itself. You stand outside, pondering your next move. "Right, so it's all gone to hell. Citys half destroyed, crew dead or rogue and Machai gone with the rest. I say we finish the job, kick Casimir out of his little headquarters and nab himself. Then reconquer the city ourselves, can't be that hard. We've both got..." Taurus is interrupted mid sentence by a knife suddenly and painfully embedding itself into the wooden door frame inches from his face. You jump back in shock. Casimir lowers his arm and grins wickedly at you both "Nearly got your brains there, fool. One of many mistakes ye have made." He spits the words out at you like they taste bad "Come to gloat have we? Found right hand mister powerful religion and knifed him in the back? I know progress has been made but, sadly it hasn't been enough. Your time, Taurus, is up AND SO ARE YOU." With that the pews previously used by your fellows as a barricade are shoved aside as if nothing and a horde of naked fanatics pour out screaming "BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!", "KILL THE TRAITORS!'. You nock an arrow but realize there are about a hundred of them, all determined to hack you to pieces. Even Taurus looks taken aback by the sheer number of attackers. "Wait! We can talk about this!" He appeals desperately to Casimir "This isn't going to..." The Libertus head on the sticks speech is cut brutally short as a thrown axe buries itself into his face. His surprised form wavers in front of you for a moment as the blood leaks from his ruined face. You don't even have time to see if he's still alive before clubs, chains, knives, fists and even feet clobber, batter and stomp you from all sides. Makes aiming impossible, you just attempt to shelter yourself and ignore your pain. Even behind your armour, your body takes a beating as you're wracked with agony from head to toe. Your world is slowly turned into a writhing mass of black and purple, punctuated by spurts of red from split skin, wounds and blood leaking from broken vessels in your eye. The screams of death of those around you are replaced with weird "oofs" and "Wheezes" as organs give way and ribs pierce your organs. Suddenly, the pain is too much and all you know is darkness Fortunately for you, and unfortunately for them, Taurus wreaks havoc in their attempt to butcher you. With one hand he catches a cleaver meant for your head, twists the hairy arm of the hirsute fool and snaps it like a twig. He hurls the screaming mutant into his fellows, bowling them over then follows up with a hand thrust that pierces the heart of the next. As he flings the twitching body aside, he catches sight of the mob attacking you. Your quiver is empty and your own arms and weapons locked against several attackers, staving off fatal blows. Mustering all the remaining poweres within him, Taurus lets of a mighty battlecry and charges into the fray, bashing and knocking aside mutants like an enraged beast. Sadly you do not live to see his charge successful. After stabbing a man in the throat you take a bladed shoe to your skull for your troubles. Darkness engulfs you and both you and Taran crumple to the floor. You were one of Taurus' best men, his right hand even. You died doing your duty for him and perhaps one day you'll share a drinking horn in his hall, or if your deeds are vile enough he'll throw you into the darkest most hellish realm imaginable. As for now, your life leaves you and you're just meat left to be consumed by the worms. END The world is ending, or at least that's what they say. Regardless of your actual beliefs, the air certainly smells like it. A stench rising from the cracks and crevasses from which you watch bile bubble and blaze. Even from your high position you can feel the heat of the magma flowing just underneath. Respected Taurus has long since departed, having been appointed to oversee operations in the new fortresses being built in the Grass Land Kingdom further north. With him went a good portion of the most talented and skilled Goliaths and majority of the elite forces. The rank and file Goliaths are content to stay simply because they're enthusiastic about the plans and really believe they can change things. More fool, them you think, even if you're forced to admit that their dedication is admirable. The monstrosities outnumber the regular goliaths now and the experimentations have produced some...interesting results. Most haven't been particularly useful, but the twins owning the building you're in right now are accepted among their fellows despite their strange colouring and carnivorous appetites. Carnivorous in the literal sense too, you remember with a grimace, as you see one enjoying the flavour of one of the dwarves you brought with you for lunch. They're used as scouts by Tûn's chosen now, their gliding ability and natural stealth seemingly combining into some kind of super-sonic flight without them even realising it. It's similar to gliding, but faster, and definitely not as graceful or pretty a sight when they come back to "recharge" by devouring one of the other less-favoured morsels from Tûn. Iales is in charge of the "natives" now. You've long since learned their strange language and passed on what little you knew of the land to them. Unfortunately, that is not much beyond a more rounded fear and hatred of it and fiction of demons prowling Now that Tûn has left, the majority of the Goliaths' attention has wavered. The mighty fortresses he envisioned are half built and resources are stretched. You're no longer high in demand as a translator or advisor anymore and now that the persecution of the Irregulars is over, there are a lot less dwarves about anyway. That's assuming they're all dead...you suppose. You've had about enough of the city now and travelling around the countryside is out of the question thanks to constant orders for you to remain where you can be found for advice if needed, but it seems that lately it rarely is. You imagine being trapped in the tower again would drive you mad, so you take to wandering outside the city instead. The games are still popular, although they changed slightly since Tûn arrived, since besides the traditional gladiators fighting beasts and each other they began executing dissidents and unbelievers. You're glad you're DM decisions allowed the more geeky types with low Strength Ability Scores to breed like rabbits while the muscular, athletic types die by the sword or bolt or from falling. Or from the slaughter of the elves, which has continued as ruthless as ever. Tûn doesn't seem to care that soldiers and Goliaths are coming back with few survivors. You can barely comprehend it, even you can have a hard time doing it and you weren't directly involved in the genocide of your own people. While your city is prosperous again and merchants and nobles enjoy their pleasures alongside extremely tame elves or other imported slaves doing the grosser aspects of work. And on that topic, you imagine when the elves are finally exterminated there will be a boom in slaves from other races as the plebs will no longer have to work. And this party will no doubt last a few more decadesthinck222; but right now society is ripe and ready to topple like a domino and all it would take is for Tûn to make just one mistake...but as far as you know he hasn't. He's cautious. While he has complete control over the military, executes anyone who disagrees with him and allows rampant corruption, he also keeps tight alliances with the other powers in Carn, trades with them, maintains relative (though perhaps forced sometimes) harmony and profits from all A year passes Tûn has finally about face on Carn's isolationism. Well, at least a little bit. You wholeheartedly agreed with that policy, and while you still think it's the best stance to take in this world of treachery and warfare, Tûn at least wants to have strong ties with at least one other city just in case. Tûn has also announced his bid for presidency. He openly plans on turning Carn into a totalitarian nation with himself as the leader obviously. Again, you agree with his long term plans, but you question if this is the best time. The city is at its peak, but it could be awhile before it falls into ruin and he's susceptible to a well timed strike from another power. Your wandering today takes you near the gladiator school you sometimes visit in search of contentment or inspiration for new games. Many times along the way you're stopped and hailed as the man of the moment for Tûn's election victory! You always smile and wave and that's when you know it's time to make your exit. You bought Tûn his time, now he has to maintain it. It isn't long before the physical signs of war become apparent, and it isn't from conquering anyone either. You see a large explosion on the edge of the land border Carn shares with Retlad. You hope it isn't a large amount of explosive's caches mixed with a stray fireball from an angry wizard or something similar. You come upon the first dead body of a Retlaf soldier. For a moment you hope these are the remains of a Goliaths victim, but they aren't big enough and the gear and weapons are different. The city state of Retlad evidently had enough and decided to attack Carn outright. You can't be sure, but it looks like there are at least three or four different units from the way the dead are dressed in modern armor mixed with medieval attire. You come across another one, who appears to have been running while carrying a wounded fellow soldier away from the battlefield nursing a mortal wound himself. Under his hand is a picture of a woman and couple of kids. In his other hand is a pistol currently too large for his own hand. He probably kept it as a reminder of the struggles his family went through so he could enjoy his life now. Just as you are thinking about stopping to give the man a proper burial, you hear an airship cry overhead. This battle is already over Carn's fate has already been decided and all that is left now is the cleanup and celebration. You wouldn't be able to fight anyway. Your condition wouldn't allow it, not that you would have the time or proper attitude to heal properly between bouts. With your options dwindling, you decide to take the only path left that may allow you to hold on to some semblance of your past... You head back home As you return to your modest residence, you take comfort in the silence. However temporary it may be, for visitors aren't common but they're not unheard of. Since nobody comes to greet you by the front door you enter without any further caution. You begin to ascend the stairs to your bed when a familiar sweet voice meets your ears. "You sure kept us waiting!" Looking down you see your daughter and wife jumping up and down in excitement at your arrival. Having lost the former word 'overprotective' from your vocabulary, seeing them so happy to see you, especially after such a trying experience fills you with fatherly joy and appreciation that they, as well as you are all home safe and sound. "Who was it this time?" Your wife asks in genuine interested; she probably has an idea but wants to hear it directly from you. "Possibly the Carn, they definitely the Retladians at some point." You begin your story as you all head up to the bedroom. "Well you're back, that's what really matters." Your wife says with a smile. You chuckles tiredly, gesturing towards her belly. "Not for long it seems, this one's willing to put itself at risk first!" Predictably she swats your arm while heading into the bedroom, you sit on the edge of your bed and remove your boots. Once this is finished you join your wife and daughter on the bed who are looking at you expectantly. Knowing better than to distract you from your story they patiently wait for you to start. "Well, since it's been a hectic few days let's start from the Carn attack." You begin. And so you recount your tale of horrors from this last week. Of fetid corpses crawling out of the mud with inhuman strength and the fetid anger of the dead within them. Of powerful spells cast by great living mages that struck down scores of the horde. Of mighty heroes cutting down hundreds, if not thousands of the beasts with gleaming steel and spells of their own. "That's just what I've seen out there!" You exclaim, "I can't imagine what tales the soldiers who fought before that have to tell!" Your daughter clings to you at your statement, and much as you hate worrying her, you know she needs hear this. "But it can't last forever." Your wife says. You nod. "I know..." You reply tiredly. "I just wish I could do more, you know?" You take a breath and let your gaze drift towards the ceiling. "I mean, after all the stories of heroism I've heard over the years, with this happening now I just feel like one of those chicken-hearted soldiers hiding behind his shields and armor rather than doing something meaningful like the heroes I've written about.. I keep wondering when my chance for true heroism is gonna come, and I can't do it." "Oh hon', you're not a hero." Your wife says fondly. "You're my hero, but you're not some knight or wandering swordsman or whatever. You're my husband and the father of our daughter, and if you go off and get yourself killed I'll just kill you myself." "I'm still here you know!" Your daughter protests. Your wife just smiles at the both of you. "Exactly. You're not a hero of ancient legend, you're my husband and the father of our daughter. And that's all the heroism you need." You smile and give her a kiss. After enduring all that you did to be together, you feel as if you're invincible when she's by your side. Even if the rest of the kingdom falls to demons, so long as your wife and daughter are beside you, you know that you can bare it all. You and your wife spend the rest of the night lovingly with each other, cherishing these moments. Just thinking about it gives you another idea... The next day you head to the captain's quarters and ask to speak with him. Normally such requests are denied but your fame has ensured that you have some leeway, and after only a few minutes you're granted with an audience. When you see the grizzled soldier who has overseen the levy troops, he gives you a look of both contempt and weary respect. You're still not sure whether he'll shout at you to get out or tell you to make up some story for your next tale. Thankfully you know which way this will go. "I want to go on a scouting mission." The man lets out a chuckle which soon develops into full blown laughter. Eventually he wipes a tear away from his eye and manages to speak. "That's probably the most heroic thing I ever heard, but there ain't no way in hell of you going out there. We're only letting people go who have skills we can utilize or ethnic minorities who actually know what the hell they're doing in these conditions." You nod. "Probably would be best to keep me then." His expression turns sour. "I'm listening. "The fact of the matter is I'm being a hypocrite, I'm writing about heroes when I'm sitting in the safety of my own home. Hell, I rarely leave my home nowadays because of these beasts. If I'm going to tell stories about heroes of old, I need to be one myself." The man still looks skeptical so you continue. "I'm ready to die for my country if need be, but I'd rather live for the both of us. No amount of training could teach me what you could in the time we have. Send me out there with a few of your best and I'll learn whatever is necessary to assist in this war." It takes him a moment, but he smiles at your proposal. 'I suppose that's pretty bold of you. You're quite the hero fanboy, but I like your idea. You'll have the best troops I have, but just so you know, they won't be able to save you if you do something stupid. Just tell the bogeys to go away and they die." "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you captain." Before you leave, he glances at something in his desk and his expression darkens. "You're not going to live past this mission, but maybe your legacy will outlive you." With that morbid thought, he hands you a folded letter. "Give this to your wife whoever the hell she is. She'll know what it means, now get out of my sight. I have a mission to prep for. "Thank you captain." You say, feeling emotional about receiving a letter for your wife. The next few days of waiting come and go far too slowly. Eventually your troops are all ready and you board an airship to head out to battle. As the ship slowly rises into the air, the man beside you shouts to be heard over the roar of the craft. "I'm Miller, what's your name?" You shout. It seems pointless to do this, but it's what's expected of you. "Miller? Like the drink?" You respond or a joke and laugh. The man's expression darkens and he soon leaves you alone for the rest of the flight. The others however give you a variety of responses. Some laugh, some joke in return, and one person sits far away from you for some reason.. I'm sure as hell not going to remember their names. I guess that joke was just terrible. You think while looking out the window to see the scars left by the behemoth in the distance. Far below, you can see the stretches of defensive walls that circle the entire nation of Galpatis. You silently wonder why they let you on this airship with no questions asked. Aren't they afraid you're a saboteur or something similar? It's not really the time to be thinking about it though, as your ship touches down at the base. An officer quickly comes up to you. "This is neither the time nor the place for you." He says rather matter-of-factly, which produces a confused look from you. "I'm Captain Dugan and we can discuss this back at headquarters." He continues after taking a brief glance at the rest of your group. You comply and board the waiting cart, sitting against the wall as you wait for Captain Dugan to join you. Miller and a few others board after him and the claustrophobic space becomes even more uncomfortable. Your escort is silent the whole time, but that's not what's on your mind. You're mulling over Captain Dugan's words. "Neither the time nor place." Did he know you were going to be killed by the king? If he did, that means your death might have been planned. The thought disgusts you and causes you to shake your head roughly. Stop getting worked up over 'what ifs' you tell yourself. You're still alive right now and you were meant to be for a reason. I mean I guess it sucks that the order can just decide whether someone lives or dies while others don't have a choice, but what's past is past. No point in worrying about it now. Hours later you arrive at military headquarters, a giant building that makes the wall you stared at for six hours look like a barricade. An intense feeling of dread washes over you and the officer stands from his table to greet Captain Dugan. "... This floor is for full soldiers, not their pet monkeys who never should have been here to begin with." He says, meeting your eyes as he passes. You feel the metal of your eyes begin to quiver and surface as holes repeatedly puncture your skull and top to bottom, front to back. Blood spills out of your nose in an effort to prevent suffocation as you collapse onto the ground, vision fading. What comes next is a parade of the heads of your comrades watching you struggle to live while boringly watching with disinterest as the Grim Reaper feels out your last moments. "... He won't die from that. patched people up long after the body should've died. Hell, those Crika bitches don't even die from it. Betrayers... all of them." Captain Dugan says as he watches you struggle. "Hrm. Think we should have them relegated to the mines?" His colleague suggests as he adjusts his glasses. "Dangerous work and most likely won't be able to psychologically handle it, but I don't think trauma and guilt will be nearly as effective as a death sentence unfortunately..." Captain Dugan sighs as he watches your struggles turn from desperate flailing to erratic spasms. You soon pass and the officer walks away. You're left retching out blood with your body shutting down organ by organ. As the light dims from your eyes, you can feel something inside of you breaking, like a window that previously obstructed some kind of opening. You're not sure what it is, but you don't have much time to think about it. You're dead soon after. You've been killed by the hands of the king. [Death]Tip: You can write much more verbose actions than just "grab bucket", etc...Story